Deliverance Of Pain

They keep their old masks nailed
to the wall, and drag their hands
across them when they walk by.
Turns are taken when it comes
to the one chair in the garage,
that is kept there only for sharpening
swords. All the fields in that land
were bright red like the foliage
itself had rusted from exposure
to the air. The young ones all
prepare, practicing their cuts
on oranges tossed up then split in half.
They slaughter grown men like
calves in the private shacks at the
corners of small ranches.
From an outsider’s perspective
their speed is so significant
almost none of their actions
can be seen in a real fight.
To them though everything
is slow and time is stretched
to its limit yielding gold in
the deliverance of pain.