(A sister poem to Beings Barbarous.)

Within those soils done gone stone hard,
Without a love grown yard,
There are buds of hungry veins
Who’d feast upon the plains.
Buried roots that pull at bones,
Biting thorns wound into thrones,
Blades that blaze and reach for stars,
Bloodleaf grown on Hades’ bars,
Branches bent towards dark and dooming –
Blossoms barbarous but blooming.

Blooms we’d grow without a thought
Who’d eat us by the lot.

They’ll miss us if they ever go
And try to plant us in a row.

Illustrated by DALL-E in the style of William Blake.