THE HORSE COLLAR
This horse collar has a rub
and it's rubbing me raw -
intentions count for little
when the firefights begin.
I cannot turn this way, nor
can I turn the other. My own
ribboned neck-flesh is bleeding.
-
There's a Captain on the hilltop
is calling out my name - if he
really means me I'm not sure.
A cavalcade of noise distorts
all things. If I've been shot once
already, even that I can't tell.
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