Verbal Visions

The Joust

The Joust

The sun rises, the herald 
of our dual.
He strides like a knight
to the crusade.
He thinks he is Lancelot,
ready for a ride at the lists.
He is a fool.

Unadorned he mounts,
his head unprotected,
naked of armor.
He will regret it.

We are enemies he and I.
He thinks I am a gift he can tame.
But I will not be broken.
I will break him.
Again.

With a great burst he charges the field.
He holds his head high,
waving to the masses
as we roar by.
He thinks he is their paladin
on his steed, reveling in his glory.

I buck him off and
he falls awkwardly
to the battlefield.
Once again,
I am the victor.