Moved

In pseudo-darkness
we scrapped and flapped,
catching streaky rays of light –
odd fragments of the sun.

We sat there –
this living hole –
glimpsed life through blinking eyes,
through a smoke so dense with grins,
so heavy and so wide.

As our hours
flicked,
slowly
on –
as our eyes flickered
idly around,
as our liquid minds closed down,
cold.
I think, here in this night, we’ll drown!

Slumped at dawn
I woke with burns.
I woke!

Fire’s here…
But not –
this heat is sun, is light
is hot.
So clumsily we rise,
we yawn;
we eat and leave this scummy hole.
We open out into the morn.

Cheerily? No…
But brighter for light,
glad to escape the weights of last night –
the long times spent listening
to low and lowly noises:
outside sounds of dark,
of confusion.

We’re out, we smile
we disperse
for the day.

Green people from Roman arena london