Solomons land by Jim Vaughn

Wounded by a crippling blow, the eagle heaved.

The dragon, circling, watched as the eagle writhed.

Bears, now dancing in the floor show, entertained none.

The court of nine saw not what lay in exile, seeking privilege for their own.

The puppet king reigned over a dismayed nation, contentedly.

Devour the bitter wine of Solomon’s land.

Wash your soul in the deadly dark pools where the continents kiss.

Cry your tears of sorrow, pray to your god for mercy.

Be fearful that he hears.