early morning, lingering fog
an eagle rises above the lake
limp vole entaloned
poet on the losing side
you’re taken prisoner, permitted to live
because you sing
men are too dangerous
to be kept for slaves, so they’re killed
lucky poet, you’re not a man
sons of someones
lead you down to a hollow ship
row you to your next master
where you’ll sing
slave, like so many weeping brides
remember, poet, cherish rage
high on poles ragged hawks
patrol winter meadows
hungry vermin die
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