Poem: Knight

 

Knight

 

a small and uncertain halo

glorifies my curse,

the gold of my epaulets

tinged with dusk.

 

once,

i pervaded adoration.

i took bets and jubilated

on the course of my scars.

 

mine was a brute valor then,

the sort that censored sorrow,

conquered the hesitant,

and misery upstaged.

 

it was said that all roads led

to the pinning-on of my medals,

a glitter of low-hanging

gilded fruit.

 

theaters reveled in the havoc

when my sword went forth,

hungry as a gargantua,

to swill the blood of war.

 

i courted death, when i swung,

all glisten and crimson,

curved just that right amount,

like a lady-in-waiting’s smile.

 

 

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