Pandora wrote down her next sight
  of the ossuary in cryptic notation,
      scribbled on her pad; she knew
    the dockets flailed in a price sinkage.
Irene took notes at work; but they dropped
    right out of view, these low-level war figures
      in muzzy profile for a watching brief
  from day to day...

       *  *  *

Right on the nerve uh sweet sugar light! - we
    were accused by harsh desire,
  desire for goodness and protein bonds,
      for sex with our native tongue.
We applied, we tapped on round after round
  as cocking our elbows we saw them fall,
    hot blowing wind to mock weapon
      audit franchise, our amiable
    recoil scores for angry sore points.
At the loading ramps of free misery we both
      did cry out with ecstatic joy
  and not by mistake in gorgeous trip
      on the wheel of punishment -
we saw arch after arch pushing up in the colonnade,
  the cut-open pediments of classical exits
    a canter of promises not quite broken
  because made that way, mazy let-outs of style
    in designer drug options. We did
cry out, brandish our paltry money, did flaunt
      every asset we had.

Triodes by JH Prynne is published by Barque Press