The Knight in a Frock

By Vishakha Choudhary

Are those lilies?

Laughs the bannerman,

The first casualty marked,

Sighs the swordswoman.

Snickers aren’t new,

And crass is the ordinary,

If she cut fewer heads,

Lonelier would be the cemetery.

For fingers too sneaky,

The blade kisses the hands,

Gazes that shout oily,

She appreciates a last stand.

They do fall silent,

The war dances gory,

If death was all it took,

Wouldn’t that be a story?

Shimmering is the new dawn,

Red is her bath,

May the Gods have mercy,

For the fools in her path.

By Vishakha Choudhary