Thunder in the Fog - Joshua Gramse

Fog-bound country

Aldermen on parade

In the chanting halls, in the illuminated windows, 

In the air, 10,000 tongues cluck their knowing

Discordant, there is nothing to know

Just sound, a pecking sort of drone

In the fog

Raunchy red jester

See me, see me

Wears a funny bulldog mask, he's Punch and Judy

Blowing and dancing for fun, for fun

Punch clubs Judy, throws the baby out the window

Knocks the paper hats from the heads of aldermen, 

Puts one on at a silly angle

Shocked laughter, what's he up to

He joins the parade, waves to the clucking crowd, 

Tiny red bells jingling

Rust land, long fallow

Alone and eating itself

Once loved, loneliness turned malice, 

Dreams of heads-on-pikes

Grows white hot

The parade passes by

But only the red fool sees the rust, makes a promise

A signal

War face

Aldermen on parade

One flies over their shoulders, 

Flits among their paper hats, leads the parade

A Sparrow of silk and steel, parade's darling

Red jester stomps along, 

Hooting and tumbling his hobby horse

His teeth are sharp, some see them flash

But laughter on the parade ground

But rust under foot

A signal

Earth cracks, rust rising

Sparrow takes flight

The crowd looks down too late

The red fool drops his smile

Splitting through his motley, jestless jester, 

A skyward rearing beast

Colossal, hollow-hearted, 

Great red bells thunder in the heavens

A shadow across mountain and plain, straddling earth

A white hot zigzag

Aldermen, ashen and wide-eyed, trampled, scatter

They forgot the fallow land, never saw it coming

Heads-on-pikes, rust rain, bitter in the mouth

Thunder

War face

In the fog

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