Smoke over timber. Flies on iron. A name carved in a shield so someone remembers. Cold water. No prayers. Only breath in the mud and the count of the living. Different time. Same butcher. Different tools. Same hunger. White tiles. Blue gloves. A number for a body so no one has to care. Coffee rings on paper. Dry mouth. A pen in the fist where the sword used to sit. It doesn’t look like war. It still takes its share. The blood is just better hidden. The blood is just better hidden. Different time. Same butcher. Different tools. Same hunger. Same butcher. (same butcher)
