False Victory

2020

Fox in the Snow – Gustave Courbet,1860

Gelid ground, frost
-bite scarred my mind,
grovelling fragile flakes rest by me.

Air is not pure
but poisoned with crimson iron.
Raise your leg for all to see,
an undeserved trophy.

No longer in drowse,
haunted whispers of winter
winds howl, clap and chortle.

Chilling cheers of the rusted spectators
bury my frost ears
as a smirking tyrant commands
a funeral for our bloodied arena

and I’m left with still
fresh eyes
stained with startling gold.

I bow down (turning away in respect)
in honour of your sacrifice
for nature’s cold compulsion for passing.