Christopher Hopkins writes

Let the tigers come

Cracked bandage of bone,
edging colours
of fired earth,

east-west lay
the troubled sores,
of such a dalliance with steel.

Deep in the night the tigers come,
and lap the blood
from my marrow well.

This peace of mind,
this picture still,
to feel the rough tongues will,

Then I loop and coil,
to my anaemic rise,
blind by colours full.

I wait the day,
for eventide light,
and let the tigers come again.

The Tyger -- William Blake