Raymond A. Foss Poems

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Sweat and avarice
Were pungent under
The cloud of dust
From the pit

Arms beat in the air
Voices raised to cheer
And exhort the handlers
And their champion

The birds rose as one
And descended in a cloud
Of feathers, spikes, and bites

The yellow of the breastplate
Was stained crimson
With the mortal wounds
Of the loser.

Quiet did not come
For the barking the dogs
And their masters.

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