Up from the sickly flowers of lead –
Whose blueish petals pale and drooped
Are soaked in black and matted blood –
The horns of consecration rise.
A liminal state of recompense
For ancient slights in sacrifice:
A creature born to neither form
Is left to wander through the dark.
Galena glints and burns within.
The furnace tipped towards the south,
And molten metal flows through time:
The monster slips between two states.
The flowers are gathered up and crushed.
Amongst the mines a new bull reigns.