Bullfight
the ground rumbles but not by your hooves the thousands and I will share your meat together wave handkerchiefs of glory after our eternity dance in this shady ring shade which grows smaller now more sun more hot july sun to you in this final hour I forever swing the sword and cape in circles your blood drips to the dust and wishes to catch the gold stitches on my pants but I must not let you I must show these people what we know they are capable of cheers and shouts and stomps which shake the sand like a hot boulder which strikes the earth together we made the coliseum bleachers popcorn and tomatoes your kin in our pens your adrenaline shots and bloody back hind legs for roasting this is what we drew in the caves they said on your back the sun was carried our gods did all the work for you the rounding you up and locking you in putting you in yokes I say bull when was the last time you moved earth with yokes? you do not pull the sun anymore you yoke nothing except the dust from my boots and the weight of three espadas hanging from your soft hump which I will break like a pomegranate I say bull we pull the sun now
Jack Anderson (pronouns he/him) is an MFA Candidate in Poetry at Wichita State University. His work has been published in Door=Jar and Greyhound Journal. He was a finalist for the 16th Annual Naugatuck River Review Narrative Poetry Contest. When he’s not watching The Simpsons, he wonders why James Tate never wrote about Kansas City. He told me to tell you that poetry is awesome and should never die. So don’t let it. Instagram: @jack.anders0n