All your beautiful creations Rot underneath the heel Of bated breath, once warm, gone cold Which witnessed writhing death
It reached its slender fingers in And plucked out every heart-string Till all the air reverberated With hopeless dreams and dead-end letters
Cropped tongue and sentence Amongst the wreck Of a thought that came off The railway tracks
Left seething, restless, a blackened stone Where tender beat met the sixth rib bone To weigh a heavy anchor, from the clouds Leaving nothing, But doubt