Читать книгу Catastrophic - Humphrey Hartney - Страница 10

Mid-morning, cliff’s edge

In all these rolling horizons

Undulating green but

No sign of orange flame –

Just mighty plumes of white and grey.

They rise up and off these valley floors until

Great smoke and high-wide cloud combine:

Columns bolt earth and sky

together.

From Ruined Castle to the furthest

lines of blue

Six or Seven great columns fume

As if they’re marking the strides

Of monstrous Zeus.

It’s as if –

Burning in his wrathful divinity

His footsteps scorch the earth

With chaos,

with wanton ingenuity –

A new battle lost by us to filthy ash

Wherever his red-hot heel comes in to land.

It is clear

We are now at war with the gods.