The second time the earth shakes,
a whispered nose pokes out from a hole,
the curved shell of an ear twitches in the settling dust.
Pieces of lightning sky caramelise sticky sweet
coating the trees, bird feathers sinking helpless,
bodies struggling then rotting like fruit.
The rat’s tail flicks whip sideways,
nudging at an old boot which cracks like the folding meringue clouds,
sniffing at the relic, bearing intricacies of a forgotten world.
The sky fades orange, the rat glances upwards;
A pause.
As if chased, it turns on its heel and whisks back into its hole,
waiting for the earth to shake again.