Creative Coping

Beauty shall come and regal shall her entrance be

Crowned shall she be with solid gems

Wrought thick within a deep

Deep soul churning with sulphurous lava flows.

Now is the curdling agony, the

Deafening crash on Vulcan’s anvil.

Beauty will come when now is then,

And her train of delights shall clank

And glisten like cans

Under a ‘Just MARRIED’ number-plate.

Now,  gut groans and churns poison

Syphened off in toxic channels to limbs

Turgid with the rancour.