No Such Thing as a Real Man

Butchers disparaged

but the rich shall eat

slices of severed wings

and morsels of sweets

sopping red

from the hands of

the real man.

Outside,

the saviors perch on white horses

the kind with severed wings

and horns that are unseen,

because the magic isn't manly.

Soldier boy,

march forward, boy

to where? Nowhere

but do not despair,

for we will convince you your presence is God.

Good job on the boot licking shining, boy

they'd pat your head if they weren't so far up, boy

and you cannot so much as crane your little head back to see

because they've severed your fabulous wings

to make you look more manly.

Oh but,

count your wretched blessings, boy

you were born just right!

So be good, good boy,

good soldier boy,

good butcher servant uncrying boy

be so good

and your reward for doing so

will be a girl

as a toy.