Into frothy, rabid clutches sink
flocks of steaming young and old in horror.
Too dark to see in those coal waters,
too cold to let you have a breath
before the midas light pulls you to your pincered bed.
A smash on murderous diamonds forever ringing in the depths
of caliginous hemlock swells,
lanced prayers leaving a trail for the riders of the years.
That lone light slowly devoured by the ghastly waters burn;
heavy fathoms sucking souls into its endless dance
and swallowing every bolt and garter,
taking them to its terrible dead end breast...
@Steven Francis poems 2011
Slip the noose of dying and madness for a time and share some observations with Welsh poet Steven Francis in this, his 5th collection of poetry.
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