My spine stands like an oak tree
with all its forceful branches,
strong and vital roots
carrying all sorts of
unripe apples and pears-
Evergreen orchards.

I look at those devils,
send burning holes in their
lifeless bodies without cells:
We’ll prevail after
this decisive battle.

War cries erupt from my
heroic white blood cells,
they place themselves
in a battalion,
they’ll hug the projectiles
with their noble chests in the air.

Heavy sniper scouts
surround themselves under
the lungs, and kneel to the ground:

Aiming their fire weapons
at the predators’ noses,
titanium bullets
that hide antibodies
sending piercing burns
like salt and ice on skin.