as now the beast has come

as now the beast has come

coral hymns for the dancing of the whale

tall gods for the arches of our ears

sneering grins from the house of chamelion;

gravy stains in basement graves

where ancient grapes with their paper mache hands

spoon flavours to the moon

of t-bone eyes and snails fin

fresh from the land of the chestnuts crooked teeth;

with heavy feet in pastry boots

rising with the ashes of the bees

coiling with an early spring

tight around the bosom of our tender knees

with adopted blood from the prayer book of our tall gods;

on our ageless village green

now dressed our village stocks in summer white

boards with the thumping chimes of three o'clock

the haunted barge where once

a married field mouse strayed

as the seamstress cocked herself a disparaging eye;

as now the beast has come

with his hunters horn and his vampire snake

baking bread with the cold hands of our child

flaming the brandy of their poldarks harvest straw;

let our tall gods hang

with a prune juice stain from our trees of ivory

die inside the silence of confession

and preach no more

with a reapers voice from inside our aubergine: