The Brilliant Ground

The body lurches forward
post-impact
flame attacked
defeated 
and falling
tower to ground

Kings hold court
in a pointed sky 
Barons of graceless report
ponder indignities
in their self-centric cause

Flame thrower, 
abandon fate
take not thy servitude
into hellish repose; Nor
hold the caucus tongue
cut from bloody mouths
wrenched from fast, hard voices
tunnel down

There is
a mother’s love
held in a gentle carry
We will walk there together
kicking clouds into swirls
the yoke in decay
dark tower to brilliant ground