By THLaird Colyne
Stewart, May AS 51 (2016)
For Their Highnesses Ealdormere, Siegfried and
Xristinia, and in memory of a very hot Crown Tournament in Bastille du Lac.
The shire’s sun seared
hot the flesh
Of those who came to fight
that day
Hadean heat burned
through the mesh
Of gallery and tents
so gay.
The warriors, stout
fighters all,
In horrid heat
contested well,
But one by one they
topple fall,
Into the brittle
grassy hell.
The heat—damn heat—of Vulcan’s
forge,
Which caused them all
to cook and steam,
And raised their
stomachs in their gorge,
It stood between them
and their dream.
But one, a phoenix,
born of fire,
From molten heat
arises new,
Alone upon that field
so dire,
A-drape in jupon
sodden blue.
In sun burned hand he
takes the crown,
And gifts it to the
woman who
Now kneeling on the
earth burned brown
Inspired him to battle
through.
