Into our temperate and tideless lives
they come, shocking as child molesters, each
unasked; the angry forgotten god arrives.
We bury them, but everything survives:
from gardens, fields, the pagan sculptures reach
into our temperate and tideless lives
and the torsos of our strangled, sawn-up wives
disturb marine-life on the morning beach.
Unasked, the angry forgotten god arrives.
Incredibly, the splendid liner dives,
killing hundreds; iceberg sirens inch
into our temperate and tideless lives,
dodging the surgeon’s healing feast of knives
with fatal quickness. Emboli detach;
unasked, the angry forgotten god arrives.
What have you done? What pain, what murder thrives
between an ocean and an empty niche?
Into our temperate and tideless lives
unasked, the angry forgotten god arrives.
Second Nature: James Lindesay’s Poetry 