Agony

I lost my arm, a leg; the head Of once my brother fell to me. I caught it with a scream caressed with Bowels, anointed with our blood – Arterial – of crimson zest – Ethereal in oxygenation. My mother whined a haunting dirge Of ‘Why? ’ and ‘Will this never end? ’ I answered with my bluing lips And gurgles of antiphony. Dying in our agony, We make a sorry nation. Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010 war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war war