Under seige
Stood amidst catapultsRaining down boulders
Against back and shoulders
That bleed and lacerate
While these seige engines,
In their cruel parody of water-dancers,
Load and fire, load and fire
One after another.
With a constant opening and closing
Of implacable petals,
This vicious flower answers only to the seasons of its destruction.
© mjc 03 October 2017
