After Goya & Selected New Poems
On his knees the lone man begs to be led away.
His wide white eyes stare into a sky all mottled & black.
He knows the future holds no salvation in the swirl of gas & scarlet rain.
Spitting blood but still with his knife he rushes the guns & gunners oblige with bayonets & shot as they’ve done to the dead & dying
scattered below & beyond.
The ax-man hacks at belly & bone – his partner straddles another
driving his blade deep & down that grizzled