Beast

out of his hands the clay
has fashionable dreams
the snake the baroque lie
attempts to redeem is

surely to be believed
in her bed in her seams
the fast earth is relieved
by nourishment of worms

as common ecstasy
there is nothing to it
nothing can shake the tree
of its fallen fruit

James Lindesay
PN Review 163
Volume 31, Number 5
May-June 2005

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Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.

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