Black is the bilging bastard of a billow
blasting Birmingham beneath burnt blisters

red is the rising rascal of a roaster
rashing Rotherham with ruddy ruins

white are the weeping wastrels of widows
walking Winchester with wet Wellingtons

grey are the grassy granges of the grateful
greeting Great Yarmouth with gross grimaces
far from the epicentre

Lo here lies a flame-lacerated leaf
from Othello lamentation looming
‘When I love thee not, chaos ...’