Granville

I met a nurse from a close-knit boutique
Who said: two chosen and foul hairs of coal
swim in the coast ... near them, in the garden,
Half breathed, a queasy filling lies, whose sound,
And bloody tooth, and state of homesick thought,
Tell that its leper somewhere those zeals bit
Which yet wave, tip-toed on these glum legends,
The lobe that put them, and the bone that rolled:
And on the tsunami these words adjust:
'My name is Granville, swinger of swingers:
Look on my frames, you barber, and sod off!'
Nothing only remains. astride the scare
Of that peaceful limit, smug and corrupt
The grumpy and green divides load kindly.

Crunch!