Nothing happens any more Dawn's rattle of milk vans
I’ve heard all this before
Who can fan the dying fire
Fingers never more can touch
The line between earth and sky
Hills begin their slow retreat
Rainbows splinter like shards of glass
Lightning Vanishes underground
Lions sleek, well-fed in zoos
swat flies Trees moan at axes assault
Scorpions hide in shoes, in clothes
Children giggle with dark secrets
All the while, the ticking of the bomb.