We rushed through the wood and stone
To find their familiar remaints
But, my love, you were not found in the town
Creation was frozen in time
The blades of what should be emerald softness
Stabbd my feet in their stead
Our astatine blood flowed, so heavy in the dark
I saw stones of cement
Splintered out of the natural floor
I found that each under there
Had passed with just seventy-five annuals
I thought we were the Infinite Ones
With no pain or agony to spare
The Black Carriage had come and gone
To that settlement
Where the needles scraped across the glassy floor
He heard a wretched sound, then
Like being tied down to her screams
In the arsenic winde
THE STABBS OF SEA