WEBVTT

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"A Bedtime Story."

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If the stable boy who
picks up a bow and marches

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with the archers
stayed home and dreamt

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of becoming king, the
old moral, every conquest

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ends with a handful of sand.

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The rape, the quake, the legs
a-tremble, even these words,

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silence itself,
blood-spattered corn.

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No one is left unalloyed,
wheezing in the ragged corn.

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And men who disagreed
since the days of Fidenae,

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now shaking hands, now
sharing daughters and goats.

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