I’m pinned to the back wall of the room by
the blast and when the smoke clears there’s a track
out of all we’ve built. The swamp is foul to
wade through. Where is the sweet meadow? How do
we get there? What force but that which flung us
here will know we sang a garden, sanctus,
a grapevine at the pivot point. Atom-
smashers, we hunted the crack in the use
of it all and forgot the bloody news
till air exploded. Pissed, we yodelled heart-
break raw enough to snag the universe.
Wake up, dizzybones, keep your pecker up –
it’s too late maybe but you catch the drift.
Step by stagger by step will find the path.