Rattled chime, slow ringing echo Roll around in virus meadow Suck enchanted nightshade twine Hear the bells beneath us chime Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs Holy words across the meadows Kissed the plagues' black rolling hand Through his lips the virus sang And the rooks, they seemed to follow him Wherever he goes Flapping in the flat sky Shrieking in the spire Hanging from the lead sky Dangling from the sun The rooks, they seemed to follow him Wherever he goes Nodding thistle, english sun dew Swansneck woman, child-bed meadow Aching shoulders sink and grow As the bells from ditches toll And the smeared skin wrapped limbs Of the night brothers Struggling.... crawling Through the empty crack of morning Of the night brothers... Of the night brothers....
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