The coming of the mole
It is not the present tense
It is in the past
Where future is broken
We sell not for last
We open our breeding
And show future colour
As green as the beading
As black as the past.
We sell our new Nature
Of physical ruin
We stand by our phase
We’re coming at last
No structural colour
Can withstand our repast
Bring me my machine gun
I’ll riddle you fast.
BCDFM
COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2020
