Rome's still in ruins
(smouldering)
Goths squat before
(smouldering)
ruins
- - -
in Byzantium
blood beaters
filter the night
for protozoa
- - -
anything goes in the land of
the hungry
or deeply disappointed
- - -
(that big O that noose for noughty
thoughts the rough press on my throat I don't want to
wear it again)
- - -
in the high country
north somewhere
alps, whatever
- - -
and in the broken alps
the broken blades of sky
fall on ingrate tarns
their slippery shards
traipse down tracheas
of light