Ted Hughes — Crows Tyrannosaurus

Creation quaked voices— It was a cortège Of mourning and lament Crow could hear and he looked around fearfully. The swift‘s body fled past Pulsating With insects And their anguish, all it had eaten. The cat‘s body writhed Gagging A tunnel Of incoming death-struggles, sorrow on sorrow. And the dog was a bulging filterbag Of all the deaths it had gulped for the flesh and the bones. It could not digest their screeching finales. Its shapeless cry was a blort of all those voices. Even man he was a walking Abattoir Of innocents— His brain incinerating their outcry. Crow thought ‘Alas Alas ought I To stop eating And try to become the light?‘ But his eye saw a grub. And his head, trapsprung, stabbed. And he listened And he heard Weeping Grubs grubs He stabbed he stabbed Weeping Weeping Weeping he walked and stabbed Thus came the eye‘s roundness the ear‘s deafness.