The Foundry

Two monsters, Iron and Coal, Sleep in the darkness. A poisonous scarlet breath blows over them, And they awake hissing and writhing, And spew forth blood-red vomit In streams like fiery serpents. Then from the reeking pools A monstrous brood is born, Black, strong, beautiful. But we turn away our tired eyes, And try to find the sky above the smoke-clouds.