We swept floors of oceans, shifting sands
with mechanical hands in sifted piles.
Decimated rainforest creatures’ homes
to feature ornate furnishings in our own.
Quantified life, through cathode rays, on couches,
while carbon dripped away. On stripped beaches
we drifted to sleep, amongst pillars of glass;
grains that once measured time.

Then the oceans crept up and swept us away
for we’d trawled all life from their raging laps;
sucklings torn from salty breasts, ripped up
through swelling crests. Guts plucked out
through their chests; a glut for gluttonous mouths,
espousing to know good husbandry.
The winder’s gone on Cosmos’s watch
as choking smokescreens dissipate; nuclear winds

blow dust in dollar-marked eyes; blinded
by indifference. Sold out for thirty silver pence,
our necks bedecked in jewelled ropes;
and as a parting gift; the smallest token:

- we leave no hope.