Green Man at Southwell Minster

You call me quaint,
curious,
fascinating.

You snare me ,
skin me,
then just walk away.

You don't read rebuke
in these limestone eyes.

You can't hear the cry
from this stuffed mouth.

That you slashed and burned
until my heart-wood died.

Stripped me of wilderness
and dressed me plain.

Slipped me a mickey of your
poison greed
till I slept and slept
and could not wake.

Slabbed me with stone,
bound me with pitch,
and crushed me
with your monuments to despair.