Machete

“Maybe there is a beast, maybe it’s only us.”
William Golding, Lord of the Flies

With that buried machete
We became conquerors
We slashed at the sunset
Hacked at the stream bed
And bled rust into water
Slowly the steel began to show
A sacrificial lamb was prepared
Field grasses lay down their weapons
Against the piracy of our find
We avenged our families
And crossed swords with the moon
All that slashing
Let the stars flood through our gashes
In our most savage dreams
We cut to the bone
Scaled our catch
Deforested the earth
And carved a path to the grave

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