THE BATTLE

     Black cat strikes
the red lands bleeds
it drips in droplets
upon the dough which needs

     the sky turns red
the day turns to night
the moon explodes
a blinding sight

     teardrops of sand!
Ride down the leather face
close the mind
leave no trace

     The blades of flesh
sway in the wind
The vulture cries out
"did we lose or win?"