The morning star
Has long since gone
The sun is high
In the sky

Shadowless
A figure stands
Stranded on Venus sands

Up in the blue
And circling
The seabirds watch and wait
For movement
Of a certain kind
Down on their dinner plate

Where children
Played a flower lays
Pulled and torn up
By its roots
And where it stood
The empty space
Just screams

Down on the flats
Baby turtles race
For safety on the big deep
And white caps come
Crashing in
Indifferent to tender flesh
Shriek of attack
Then moving
In a raucous clash
A gourmet din
Of cruel gull
Beaks and tearing skin
Screaming
Lit by the evening star at Venus sands
Against a blood orange sky
There's a shadow
Of a figure prone
Abandoned and all alone
Venus sands