Low Tide

Black basalt has risen
wearing an armour of
oyster shells.
Walk not over it,
for it can cut.

This is a procession
of black gods
questioning the fog
that has descended
upon them.

Wondering why they have
appeared here before
the mega-polis
and what it is that
they want.

So that they may for once
shout the slogan,
before the tide
robs them of their chance.

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