Fiery, fiery,
likened the charge,
four hoof-beats will change
the size of the man.

The circle will shrink,
but the ring enlarge,

enclosing a score
on Custer’s last stand.

Solo each kill
that builds into clusters;
all fallen the men,
the army of Custer’s.

Violence will grow
with a personal skill—
and Custer had four years
experience.

Man, for the Sioux,
was a slow learned kill,
as experience
gives way
to impertinence.

A novelty strike
will not even the score,
so much for the unfortunate
boons of a war.

Dangling and stranding,
each round, demanding;
hope now lessened
an ending to war.

Short lived a skirmish,
each life so depending
on living, extending,
another day more.

No Bluecoat left standing,
so it goes at the ending;
none will be living
another day more.

But who was attacking
and who was defending?
Two sides attending
the vicissitude of war.

If luck be the lady
that fate falls upon,
it depends on which side
the Lady is on.

Fiery, fiery,
the blood and the gore
all flow the vicissitudes of war.

Impertinence shall tend
where experience should win,
But all bets are off in this war.

©2011, Marvin Welborn
Revised 3 July 2014. 02 Nov 16.
Poem’s Score: 1.5