Endgame
Sentinel guards pocket the rockface,
Crush tied deserters. They prickle
and drip
Blood and honey; sheared roles clear faces.
A tarnished army claws up through the crags.
Their weight bears a trace.
Unreal steel creates windows, unopposed.
Torn into submission, infiltrated negative space
Needles the nerve.
Little pitchers open their mouths hungrily
Before they are closed.
A trick to play; morning scatters forces.
Heads locked together to contemplate loss;
A war of clocked numbers for record.
Distant calls echo and reverse as
Numb Aquarians pool their resources.
The shadow of a debt-collector
Declares a winner.
I think you're nearly there! You say you're stuck but this is a fantastic edit. Nice to see a bit more faith in your writing, Miss L. Ring the big hypocrite bell at me if you want, but in poetry it's all about confidence. :)
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