A Poetic Account of the First Battle of Hoover Dam
Dust swirls,
men charge,
rifles fire at floods
of spear and targe.
Cries, wails,
come far
and near,
and the men who wail,
wail in fear.
Blood splatters,
paints the sand,
red canyons take on a new meaning.
Death prevails,
o’er profligate,
o’er other-side-of-the-river.
O’er out-of-luck-er,
o’er jackpot winner.
The men in red make one
final charge,
but when rifle fights spear,
rifle pierce targe.
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