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He enters the ring of blood-seekers.
His skin glistening the bronze
of near-by idol images.
He has spent his life training—
to not get taken in an evil net.
He fearlessly watches the watchers.
They exclaim, “O such beauty.”
Yes, beauty can be cruel indeed
with ribs laid open by lion paws.
O, when will they tire
of minced flesh; bloodied pulp of the
vanquished?
He was a human-god until the dragging.
As this day closes, his body tossed upon
a heap of death, he wears a crown of jewels.
The price for the Church has been high;
laid with precious ruby-red foundations.
copyright Alice Parris 2006
reproduced on this blog by permission from the author
See more works by Alice Parris at Soulgasm
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