In these eastern parts of a war
As threats drifting with days
Built up like clouds meant
To shroud all light — But this one here
But as threats
They never had much
Of a real thunder to them
In the parts untouched by the war
The same threats
— Like rafts of birds —
Would swing and buffet
Sideways and through the
Clouds meant to shroud all light
— But this one here
But as threats, they never had much
Of a real thunder to them
As fire brigades
Continue to take on The furnace outside
We would swing through
And down again
Like those damned birds
Through any joys
In this
Bloody mess of black
And then back down again
While you were asleep
I left the house
With a burning ghost on my heels
To chase down the clouds meant
To shroud all light — But this one here