Battle

A naked giant man, sitting upon a bed,

His body shaded by the darkness,

His head hung low,

As if in shame or in fright.

The Thing that bears Mercury’s hat,

Clenches his hand tightly as

The mother, a Christian woman,

Also holds his hand against the

Grip of the Thing.

His sister, far down, holds out

Her hands as if she wants to catch him

If he falls or as if

She is praying to the Lord,

Her long hair extending to the bottom of her back.

The man has his other hand

In a suitcase,

As if he were digging something out.

The Thing has a flame in its left hand,

Bears a golden buckle belt,

Has eyes for breasts,

And whips its spiked tail in dismay

As a woman-mannered girl in white garments and

A white cap

Grasps the man’s wrist and the Thing’s

Right wrist

And pulls them away from one another.

Another man and his wife,

Who has a small slice above her eyebrow,

Stare up at the man in wonder,

While a Hebrew man of ancient times

And a construction worker of modern society

Battle with the Thing with blades of steel.

And two Egyptian princesses stare at the

Belly of the Thing,

Which has a dark, gothic, gruesome face.