Hear my prayer Ares:
turn away your face from me,
your black shield away, your voice away, away your deep helmet and flashing gaze
I pour you my libation far from the heart of the city.
Olympian, you are all terrible, your children are spears, and your lovers are arrows.
Far from me stand in your chariot, bloody-mouthed and planetary, your horses screaming and straining
plucking soldiers from their living roots
My hands are full with your gifts
I honor them:
the striving forward,
lust of destruction,
the death of men,
but oh to stay only behind your heel, only under your dark shadow
working the salt soil.