The scream rips through the forest
tearing the trees down.
‘Love me love me love me,’
cries the scream at the railway station
with its hair streaming backwards.
It’s like a train flashing
at two hundred miles an hour
blowing the birds from the hedges
and bending the iron rails.
It ends up at a cottage
deep in a secret wood
searching the pale windows
for the kind iron face.
It staggers across the flowers
and beats on the warped door
which opens like a cloud
onto its sudden rain.
It crosses the bare floor
like a single moonbeam
and lies in a straight line
on its exhausted paws.