To arrive at Change, you board the local train
And that train only which you most despise
Which cannot leave the tracks counter-clockwise,
Devising unknown detours in your name.
But note sharply, once and for all,
How dangerous is the landscape just for you;
Children and tourists marvel at the view
And find no Death’s-head in the schedule.
For the disputed scrimmage of your place
In sunlight, sea light, and the early rain
Is darkness falling from remembered sin
Which falls forever on your single face
And cannot alter the absorbed terrain,
Placing a rock where sand had always been.
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