Clock Press On Overdose

The badgers run
under the columns of thunder,
scattering once light falls
onto artery gashes.
Gold chokeholds and blunt teeth
turn ketamine from troughs
into baby meat;
cider ignites deep roots.
Blind from clingfilm
and studded skin,
a dragon hunts the pit
for blazes.
Rotor blades turn to straw
as candy anthems fight for space.
There be tigers
always,
in bottle green forests;
grey cartoons alive
on marble flesh,
we bloodied figures always sink the ill…

@Steven Francis poems 2009