copyright Marie Gail Stratford
I
make death:
long, beautiful
annihilation.
We all do here
at the forge,
but Harold,
who’s a klutz,
makes axes:
tree death,
and William
shapes animal
slaughter for
the butchers.
I am the best.
I make human
death. I sweat
at the steely
altar of Hades,
heated crimson
like future blood.
My masterpiece was for the king. It took a year to make. The hilt was set with a
fountain of diamonds, like the seeds of mourning lilies.
It won me a
citation. I
cannot read it,
but I know what
it says. The
best death
maker in
the realm.
The Green-Walled Tower 