Sunday, 3 June 2012

Blood Diamond Jubilee

I stake no claim to the ground that withers
As she comes flying over
With her leathery grasp.
The city streets rot beneath her talons
As she comes riding
With the jaws of the dead.
With the silvered fins of the prowling rippers
She comes sailing
And the perished fish eyes burst with silt.
I live among the scaly decaying
And we glitter with our feathered hate

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