Spikes

Spikes by Mataio Austin Dean, age 14

Basic,

Bent, intent on pain

With four points

Landing any way

-The spike

Hiding waiting

In the thick black mud

Waiting to

Impale, to stab, to puncture, to spike,

To bed themselves so deeply -

Rust ridden

Calthrops.

Spikes of hate

Shoving, maiming, impaling

Studded boots

The boy’s trench foot,

Rotten feet,

Cutting, forcing, stabbing

Deep

Through sodden tunics

Into hearts, cutting, winding

Through already broken bones,

Blood-soaked faces

Skin, muscle, bone,

In the bloody sick mud

Disgustingly real horror all around

Just

Hiding, time after time

In the thick, black mud.