The Bull Ring by Anonymous

One

Two

Four

The bull paws at the white, scorching sand

As the amphitheater rises to the challenge of

A blazing sky

And the anger is sublime, intoxicating, slicing through meaty veins

Like spears thrown from some distant stronghold

Right on target

And the subject of fury is that man

With the red flag

With the sword

El Matador

With his swagger

Always a lunge away

Eight

Nine

Twelve

Always dancing, always pivoting

Slashing hair, flesh

The space between bones

Spattering scarlet with practiced movement

The bull screams

Swings its sinuous neck

Because the pain was never supposed to come

Because they told you what was wrong

They told you to press and spin the cap

And hold manufactured freedom between your ring and index finger

And take it with plenty of water

To avoid heartburn

Fourteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

You will dance

You will not breathe

Nineteen

Twenty One

Twenty Four

But you will also lower your horns

And win beastly survival