Rage

Iron wrought on they who brought

This peace on me.

The smothering lovers

Of dove feathers worn in a crown

That blots out the true furnace.

I offer you nothing but rust.

And glass shards that sparkle

In your bones, now dust.

I feel as though a thousand armed men

Partisans and paladins

Are rising from my sinews

To slay you

And march on my brow-

There to raise a crimson banner.

Rage ages hearts when it makes of them

Engines and great munitions factories.

For wars that never comes

But are always promised.

One day it will fail, and I will fall

To the dove tail lovers

Who strip the branches of the

Looming laurel.