(London, the 14th of March, 2012)
She dreamed of purity
Death, a coy child,
Was watching us from behind
Words wonderful,
Loose, rolling, rolling mandarins
Perfumed fruit that
Tasted bitter in my mouth
I could not hear her laughter
For the toll bells’ strident ringing
And please don’t ask – don’t ask who
They were ringing for
We tap-danced on a coffin
She dared me not to look down
But I saw her true face under the paper mask
Beware the Ides of March!
I preached – lunatic prophet of doom
Beware the Ides of March!
But she was the Labyrinth,
The Sacrifice
And the Minotaur
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