Vanquished now,
I return
to find
all bare of life,
and stilted, stifled purpose
laces the air that has
disguised her
earthy scent,
rank loam in the ruins.
The stones of my home,
my fence,
tumbling
atop each other,
as my men
from their horses,
ungainly unseated,
and skewered
for their lack of skill,
or a champion.
Grasping, bare, black branches soon
reach to pull me into
the shadows
of my mind.
As did she.
Merciful
was the
headsman’s ax,
and swift.
The sky and ground
joined hands
to somersault
in sun-dappled motley
before my eyes.
And
I returned home,
now
Vanquished.
