Reverse Unworship

"Sssh", forefinger edge-on
      a distant summer hill
footprints, "the sign of 4"
      clear on a sunny day
Left, a golden field
with pylons and lines where sprayers ride.
Centre, a single eye broach, periwinkle blue
emerges from a green bed of water-colours condensed
to an accretion of viscous oils. He emerges
from opacity and servitude, let free
with hellequin hounds to rampant hunt
down lane at back a th'estate -
the weak, the silent: "Hush now, be quiet."

She grins and dances by plastic pod
hay bales, waits for him with her cold corn
breasts, legs spread wide in the luminous air.
His harvest haunts
the 4x4 diesel fume. Staring eye
is peeled back and black in the high sun.
He takes his hypodermic syringe
from it's neat morocco case.