Poems

One Score and Ten and Four

I dreamt a light
Bright like a knife
Feral as a first smile
And knowing like the last.

One score and ten and four
Transfixed by my own lure
A fantasy
Seen without sight

Now I shall build
Till the far fields
Where a skilled will might grow
And war-horns lock and blast

One score and ten and four
I am called to the fore
To fight and die
But never yield.