Written by: Donal Mahoney

From shimmering oil
of ebony still
will come flailing of limbs
will come hacking
quick slashing
of hands now untied
tattooing no pattern
not even a maze
depriving gray walls
of their stone
will come spittle
wild churning rivers
agush from slack jaws
of blanching gray hounds 

till one day at dawn
will come quiet
Donal Mahoney