They made amends
with the coming curse
as stable swords
gave hollow birth
to riders edge
as storm approached
a feeble winter
the scarlet broach
that held her dowry
a family's worth
between her breastplate
the withces stir.
Pushing forward
through the snow
they came to rest
their shields and bows
and staffs and riches
though there were few
were all laid down
as the virgin bruised.
They filled a stein
with gathered blood
and made their footsteps
a crimson mud
for all the wasters
and wallowing holes
to step where they had
to share their soles.
When graduation came
we flicked our cigarettes
from atop the belltower
and kissed drunkenly throughout the ceremony
while drinking a bottle of boone's farm
as your walkman played "hit me with your best shot"
into both of our ears.
