A Thousand Bucklers
Grace
in stance
lightly trod.
An inveighed
elegance as
comportment imbued
in styled steps
clearly conveyed.
Inevitably
such finesse
shall come to butt
against no thing
more honed
than the acumen
of my pure blade.
“Thy neck is like the tower of David,
builded for an armory,
where there hang a thousand bucklers,
all shields of mighty men.”
How well my steel
slices
bearing pressure
to a sluice of blood
garroted.
“a thousand bucklers”
Where are they now
my love?
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