twa fittit beass

endless rows of two-footed beasts
rising and falling, slipping in and out of
being
with steel slung over shoulders,
with hatred chiseled into hearts

endless rows of half-sleeping gods
in dreams of food and drink, and bloodlust
with steel hewing through hearts
and hatred packed and stacked high
on their shoulders and backs

with arms outstretched to both lovers and foes,
marching toward a vast dark No

row upon row upon
row