In my dream I am paralysed, silent
There’s a shadow behind the moon
I scurry down into the winter-valley:
Dried up, shrivelled, weather-beaten,
Rock- hidden fossils, set in stone,
Evolutions of Medusa. My bones
Afflicted by a petrified decay.

All, all she gazed upon
Can never be rubbed away.
Stains dry and calcify
Deep in these hidden bogs
Remnants of consciousness
A quagmire-swamp of guilt, regret
Spilt water, wine, I forget, 
What did the damage.….

This disturbance in the weather
No transubstantiation this: yoked, ploughed,
Dragged, inchoate into death;
A process has begun.

Welcome now obscurity, shadow,
Winter trees stripped,
Banshees scream into the wind,

A modulation of voice, a volte-face:
A variation of mood. Tattered lace. No man
Could have such bad intent as to awaken from sleep
These legions of demons that laugh as we weep?