Opera
Swathed colours, a sequence.
The skies near Vienna.
The comrades in the corner
laughing loudly, for no apparent reason.
Remembering his village or his mother,
a soldier opens an old wound.
A song about sacrifice requires everyone
look towards a door just closing.
There is pride in confrontation,
beauty maintained in blood.
Within ritual movement, a knife.
Regret in a minor key.
The one who was hermit
is made king, or was king all along.
There is a baby on the bonfire,
and everyone is singing.
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