in the corner of your eyesight
peering eyes, regrouping

this is where it ends. turns, resemblance
yellow bedstraw, reaped;

slain grass, the body of the lion
years gushing from its broken gutsack

what is left? a moral cast, the heart
abundant in it

the gain, where it flusters
foaming, raging then desisting

falling, stopping at the surface
to breathe

when the circle of our trophies beckons us
to join them, what then?

look at this, reflect
be not endangered in it

forsake as if the pestilence, strike blindly
then recognise, as if choosing not to

spring solitude, a meeting
wick and flame

for years you were born, jagganath
- the beating tissue