Out of the axed arbor
to the clasp of shadows.
Layman-led away
from the gryphon’s bloody yard.
Littered bones and nothing random.
By chancel-light the named animals
are massed, humped in darkness below
the third station, hoofed
clutter in the clattered aisles.
Hooded bones cloistered
in remembrance beneath. The
cat spies catlight advancing rat-like
through the chink of screen.