"Lady (Work)" and "Corps"
She filled herself with Independence—
dependent on what men were spending;
four inches lifted, coiled and suspended
on velvet robes at day’s ending.
Alone with peace in her trinity
she never found it in another city.
Hidden amongst the trees, I faced ground.
People of my habitat corralled
prospecting appearance of rainfall--
not water, but projected metal
struck bodies turning all porous like soil.
Lead droplets seethed blood, and souls
no longer belonging in the physical world,
plummeted by mechanical cylinders--no veiled
tender cloud. An ordnance revolting flesh
released a cloudburst of caps as hail;
their motto did not call for death,
yet they walked on those beneath
me and the Acacia trees--
and this was the armament of peace