“Soldier, Still In Service to Jehoram”
Timothy Tarkelly
“How many kings
have I flayed for?
Piked heads and flames
fuelled with rags
soaked in enemy blood
and stoked with sharpened bones.
My knees are old
From decorum.
Generations of genuflecting
Before sceptre-wielding giants:
patent-wielding babes,
august by birthright.
How many captains
have called my name,
to run amongst the Moabites
and cleave?
Blood of my enemies mating
on the bodies of my friends.
But treachery stops
at the ear’s edge.
Who can blame Achab, the vessel
when lips are pouring
life’s rent in liquid whispers
that drip between her thighs.
The streets were littered
with mouths to feed
and the children’s teeth chattered
even louder than the dogs
on a dinner spiced with caution:
‘this could have been your daughter.’”
Cauldron Anthology
29