Dance Of Death Poem by Nate Truman

Back and forth goes the blood stained cloth,
Their silhouettes carefully swaying around the arena
The blade arcing its way around the great and bloody mountains
Of proud flesh that rush by with the majesty of the truly wild.

Man against beast, a battle as old as time,
To the death both toil,
An elegant dance of shaking charges and carefully choreographed passes
Until the blade decides the time has come, and the mountain's reign must end.

A single thrust, and the deed is done.
The proud mountain falls,
The white flags are waved, silent in their revelry,
A single tail, and a pair of ears,
And the dance begins again.