Clade Song 12 left

Clade Song 12


We're like accountants -
essential to prevent
the collapse of civilisation.
Ignore the grayscale skin
stolen from the Atlantic sky
or our lemming-like mating
ritual. There's excitement
in the predictable. One taste
and you're hooked. We'll always
be your unpaid butler, reliable
as butter, as rain, as tarmac.
Sizzling like hot tarmac in the pan,
watch how we can absorb anything
into our flaking cliffs of flesh.
We're not really fish, you see, but horses. 
Look how we'll drag you behind us 
in dreams, while you beg us to stop 
prattling on about the book value 
of your precious little life, how 
meaningless the profit and loss
of every daily action might be.

Clade Song 12 Right

Christian Ward is a London, UK-based writer who has recently appeared in Open Minds QuarterlyObsessed with PipeworkPrimeval MonsterDreichUppagus and the BlueHouse Journal.




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