Heart in hand passed to the clasp of
pain
In a dark lowland that set bad blood
in veins
Burning like penal fires roused to stain
The jagged-toothed skyline braced
with crosses
The golden dawn
Lay lost to mist where
Emboldened thorns
Made their bed with toppled stones
He closed His eyes
Sunken to dream there
Of crow-black skies
And a great white empty throne
Horror stalked the bilious fogs
That balked His vision
He licked the spittle from the cheeks
of the way
And drifted back to when His stung
it