Carl Sandburg

(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Fight - Poem by Carl Sandburg

Red drips from my chin where I have been eating.
Not all the blood, nowhere near all, is wiped off my mouth.
Clots of red mess my hair
And the tiger, the buffalo, know how.
I was a killer.

Yes, I am a killer.
I come from killing.
I go to more.

I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.
Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices
of my inside bones:

The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.

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Read poems about / on: tiger, red, war, child, hair, mother, joy, children, running

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

Poem Edited: Tuesday, October 4, 2011

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