Sweat and avarice
Were pungent under
The cloud of dust
From the pit, the crowd
Arms beat in the air
Voices raised to cheer, to
jeer,
And exhort the handlers
And their champion
The birds rose as one
And descended in a cloud
Of feathers, spikes, and
bites
and the dust of the pit
The yellow of the
breastplate
Soon stained crimson
With the mortal wounds
Of the loser before them.
Quiet did not come
For the barking the dogs
And their masters
around the pit
edited February 13, 2014
Cock Fight – v2
June 2004
Cock Fight
(just seeing if I could write it)
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