Dried up, shrivelled, weather-beaten,

Rock- hidden fossils set in stone,

These evolutions of Medusa

Afflict with a petrified decay.

And all, all she gazed upon

Can never be rubbed away.

Stains dry and calcify

Deep in the  bogs, in a quagmire,

A swamp of guilt, regret

Spilt water, wine, I forget.

No transubstantiation this:

Yoked, ploughed, dragged,

Inchoate into death 

A process has begun.

Welcome now obscurity, shadow,

Winter trees stripped

As crows scream in the gloaming

A modulation of voice, a volte-face:

A variation of mood this.

........

No man

Has such bad intent as to awaken from sleep

Those legions of demons who laugh as we weep.