Chapter 2

Its tip tore the topsoil, tilling, as it strolled on it,

Infusing blood into the earth

Pints of blood dripped on its back, gliding through the flat

Making their way to the tip

Its wooden handle could only absorb so little,

tunneling the rest to the back and flat

And the hand of the holder is as red as

the heart as the person that has been butchered.

House flies, their friends and foes already feasting on the exposed

Organs: bowels, stomach, grey matter, and the heart

From which those pints of blood once get their pump.