Hunkered down, head hung low in modest consternation,
a lonely ever lost lover has forgotten the link to his future.
Huge burden for squat shanks sunk in steely toed hooves
–the line of his kind–for the heart-white tank rests stilled
uncomfortably complex for a survivor’s fatigued fortunes.
The will to seed his fate is buried beneath a tragic query,
the horn of desire splayed as aimed weapon and snared
drum beats pound defeat and despair of all whose greed
swallows a species in unsurrendered satanic usurpation,
a reply to which singes will: Why do we kill what we love?