ophidian nightmare, the kind that sleeps
through meditation to awake with hammers
for the carillon
and makes prevenient daylight
because it did not arrive with the Sun
but stanches alluvion for drought
and waits to rub sulphuric dust
oxidized by a vast diaphanous lung
for this gift, or isn't it that speaks
to not one when all are beckoned
forward in perpetuity, the stygian rotation
flouting time and space as devised
vermiculate earth, the recidivist love