a poem

I spat in the water
And the children of slaughter
Who were standing behind me
Looking out at the green sea
Took a hold of the east wind
Bringing dust and disaster
As they danced in their circle
Growing louder in laughter

I washed in the water
Of the daughters of slaughter
Running quickly before me
Drinking out of the green sea
Knowing well of the west wind
Turning faster and faster
They too danced in the circle
Weeping now the disaster

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