Soup stained, the carpet
where the dogs licked up
Lazarus’ tomato variety
spilt by fleeing beggars,
Excuses and pleas drowned by the
sirens’ vocal undulation.
The sun rose and never set.
The rain was wet, but never fell
on the tundra where glaciers
wasted millennia with melting.
Town-born foxes out-foxed the urban dogs.
The urban dogs out-dogged the dormitory town cats,
and the ubiquitous rat chewed on the bones of all.
The reservoirs turned tidal,
So doves nested on the hulks of arks
until hawks ignited volcanoes.
Then the hawks fed upon the heat-blistered doves
and drank from dove pustules in
avenues, squares and parks renamed
after enlightened dictator avatars.
Copyright © Clifford James Middleton 2018
I am a native of Derby in the British East Midlands on the edge of the Peak District National Park. I have lived in Germany since 1983.