WAR

Dedicated to Carolyn Forsche

This is cold.

This is the bitterness that leaves its

Teeth marks on your soul.

Bend the lamp-light to your favor

Let the shadows hide

The eyes

Of an endless nightmare

You refuse to acknowledge.

The red is now crimson:

It flows from the lifestreams of the young.

I watch one man kill his brother,

Stiletto slices neatly to the jugular.

He falls, and

A bloody plume like a brilliant banner

Shivers in the air

With his final heatbeats.

I mix it with the Earth --

My ransom to the devil.