gideon at guilford courthouse nc

guilford passed unearth,
the pyrrhic morning giving
fitful birth within sleep-

and gideon
brandished a broadsword, it
was like all the things
as waking in fleece, wrapped with the dead, he,

stood at guilford and
bequeathed, to the
gallant dead their morning-

in fahrenheit degrees the crickets
mourned multiples of forty and

the court convened-
a public breach
of pacifist opinion was re-sequestered, stygian
the broadness

and gideon drank
fine wine took his
son to the river bank
in the lighthorse finery
buried the

engraved sword his scarred back
towards guilford,
the autumn closing like a table of clouds,
slipshod silk,
clinging to the mahogany-

gideon recalled the older days when the battle cries were always inarticulate-