Oh Mighty Sword!

Forged of

golden

thread

molded from

the copper

wings

of the

Phoenix

that

melts into

ash

simmering and

cooling into

long

sharp

embers. Your

grip

no bigger than

the foot

of a

mouse

clutching with

anticipation

of a Lilliputian

bloodshed. Your

pommel

mimicking an

oculus

vacant

subaqueous

like a

crater

imprinted by the

thumb

of

God

allowing only

selective

beautiful

threads

of

ideas                                                                                                                                        cont.

to

pass through

with dedicated

quagmire. Your

prick

draws forth

red

water

the size

of a

dew drop

left on

the petal

of a

rose

my pointer finger

a wounded

soldier

yet a

tear

still

drips from

my eye

like a

leaky

faucet. Your

blade

creates this

art,

parrying back

and forth

slashing in

and out

thrusting a

beautiful

history

that

extends past

seams

and

stitches.

Immortalized by the

hands

that

joust

elegantly.

PHOTOGRAPH BY RACHEL KISER