The Spoonbill Generator

Saffron, Saffron

I've seen the skull beneath the scone

It's sitting there white as a bone!

Webster! Leave these kids alone!

I've seen the writing on the wall,

When there was nothing there at all!

Save a finger's ragged scratch of chipped paint--bloody patch

smeared upon faded space of yellowed white meaninglessness

What is it that cannot be read?

I think I'll add this line then go to bed.

Contributors: Roland, Stacy, Lucretia.
Poem finished: 7th June 1997.