to the hilt
give him a sword,
tell him to use it.
But did you ask him
if he wanted to fight
or serve like this?
give him a sword,
show him how to swing it.
Let him grip the blade
and watch the ribbons
of vermilion streak steel.
give him a sword,
teach him to clean it.
Watch him polish it,
the rust flaking from edges
and scattering in ash,
carried by your heaving breaths
across the field.
give him a sword,
make him fear it.
Sharpen him, starch him, strangle him,
send him to war.
watch him dance for you,
while you sit, entombed,
the tang never touching,
always moving,
ready to murder, to maim.
give him a sword,
watch him bury it.
The dust settles,
the wind howls,
the glass shatters,
the blood splatters
across his face.
you roar for more
but it is too late.
you gave him the sword.
did you ever think to ask
if it was his war,
or his revenge?