The Battle

Incalculable chemicals take their daily calcium,

Get stronger and stronger on blood broth,

and the fields sleep.

The battle is tomorrow.

I run my fingers through feathered grass and

think,

How many hordes would maim and dismember

to choose what I do with my sculpture of bone?

The new war is personalized,

minute,

cerebral.

The chemicals leave trails

vociferous and victorious.

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