On the bank,
There heralds a tongue-tied sob –
Grief stricken and diesel choked,
Where the serpent, sating itself on sea-salt,
Gores itself into that iron lung.
Chewed breaths turn stiller yet,
As the metallic chimera binds together –
That stinging wail which sits thick in the air,
Around the language of false proof.
On the bank,
That faceless tiger swallows whole
Realm-Echoes of that witless girl –
Drowned, reborn –
Dispossessed.