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Poem No. 83

blacknessonseapoet

The Lobster Pot, at Blackness


Unfurling blackness

creeps

arterial corridors.

The speed of dark –

faster than light –

is in there first,

ready crammed

in every corner.


Lobster pots are bird-cages

for beasts singing

therminal songs,

before they're heard

no more.


The Lobster Pot contains

comedy crammed

in every corner,

easing wage-slaves back

to blackness

with buoyant songs

before death.


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