Another Sound
The sound comes over the radio
Young men dead, dying, in spots
An unholy O
A dusk falling over them
The sun refracted through the misty blood
Reflects from the oozing guts
The glistening feast attracts the gulls
Who shit on their meal as they gorge
“Damn you, damn you all!” screams the one left
Screams the DJ from the radio
Screams the last spearman left alive.
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