Rattled chime, slow ringing echo
Roll around in virus meadow.
Suck enchanted nightshade twine,
Hear the bells beneath us chime
Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs
Holy words across the meadows,
Kissed the plagues’ black rolling hand,
Through his lips the virus sang
And the rooks, they seemed to follow him
Wherever he goes
Flapping in the flat sky,
Shrieking in the spire,
Hanging from the lead sky,
Dangling from the sun,
The rooks, they seemed to follow him
Wherever he goes
Nodding thistle, English sundew,
Swansneck woman, child-bed meadow,
Aching shoulders sink and grow
As the bells from ditches toll
And the smeared skin wrapped limbs
Of the night brothers,
Struggling, crawling
Through the empty crack of morning
Of the night brothers
Of the night brothers
Of the night brothers