The Lamp
After Nye at the National Theatre

black lungs
burnt by golden indifference

a child’s voice stuttering
in fear’s dark

the bony finger
of cruelty resisted

give me your hand
I’ll place mine within

raw need will scratch
palm’s flesh

the day lit flaying 
will not relent

the earth rots
in the stomach

once white teeth
​coal stained and seething

have patience, have patients
hold hope

a single lamp shines
against the black seam