Lost

By Andrew R. Duckworth

We were given a precious painting
And treated it as a dog toy-
Piercing with fangs like javelins-
Tearing it from end to end.

Just a few words to suggest
That we needed more
And we were off to gather
And claim what wasn’t ours.

Conquest became a concept
And we marched by it
To grasp a grave fruit
And, by a bite, end it.

We tasted the fruit of dishing betrayal
And paid the price through a closing door.