VOLCANO

VOLCANO

Small cones of flesh

beached on the sand.

The colours of clay

sun-fried, sun-dried,

raw umber, raw red,

burnt ochre, burnt orange,

brown and carbonised black.

Gut chambers

rumble, bubble,

protest, threaten,

vent shit-sticky lava

in white bathroom craters.

Smoked discs on top

cover eyes and brain

that marvel and see,

want to know more,

understand to care.

Small cones of flesh

asleep on an volcano.

It stood up and shuddered,

stopped life with a shrug.

It has no feelings,

no sense of its power,

it does not mind or watch

when we explode and burn.