Miles below the surface.
emerging into sudden light. Its glare.
And a constant roar.
And a belly full of strangely flavoured meat.
Consumed again. Its great stomach refilled.
And now it’s rising towards the surface,
towards the natural light.
now. It breaches the surface in Farringdon,
the great beast rising nearly to street level in the middle of London.
Regurgitates meat, devours people,
who flock into its belly,
and onward the train flies on the Circle Line, back suddenly into darkness.
Onward to Barbican.