If you stumble through the gatehouse,
past the porter’s lodge,
you will stand in the sun baked quad
with no scope to dodge
the complacent scrutiny of
those whose world includes
the use of the words ‘heuristic’
The stones shine with their smooth faces
as yet free of holes
from bullets fired with the anger
of common sense by the powerless.
Oddly, it is the bullets that
will be heuristic
and their firing an exercise
whilst the complacent smiles rummage
through data to find
a more secure truth, evidenced
to take an honoured place
in time, fixed behind the stone walls.
Will the signified
overcome the signifier’s
destruction? From here, none can hear
the crack of melting
ice in the warming seas, no stench
of rotting fish comes
between the self absorbed and their
myth filled universe.
the cry of the drowning poor, swept
aside by typhoons,
cannot be heard in these inspired
spaces. Nature will
assert its own cold certainties.