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Virus
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Call Of The Tuskers
Casual is the presence of the sounds
that trained their ears to shield themselves in the deserts
from the cross-winds
eternally seeking them out
in vacant places and through the clockwork of ancient remains
- that rests on the ocean floor
- pulling the strings from the shadows
On the sites where they flogged
the elephants
and handled their bones…
Those fields are all scarred
Centuries howl in the last gleam in their eyes
Significant dreams reveals despise
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- that rests on the ocean floor
- pulling the strings from the shadows
Red currents move their tusks
and their bones
Under the light of the aging sun
Weaker with every contortion
As they wander through the desert plains
sizing up the universe
from the solar winds to this pleasant breeze
They're drinking the first waters
as the islands are rising up from the seas
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