A tower of words merged into brick
waiting to crumble
like the decayed mast of a wrecked ship.
The alligators below all circle around
speaking of disaster and sacrifice
while they’re safe on the ground.
An annual mania that ignores the dying,
green apologies are spoken;
they don’t realise they’re lying.
And then the opening buds of a rose
speak up with new voices
querying the world with new prose.