uhh....

And now, I shall spend rest of my life deciphering this piece of writing.

Volatile hybrid of dinosaur and toy,
this remnant throbs on a hot stone:
a prehistoric offcut,
six inches of chlorophyll-green dusted with pollen;
a trick of nature-lithe,
ectopic, cuneiform a stocking-filler,
out of the place everywhere but in the sun.

Frisking the wall,
its snatched run is a dotted line of fits and starts, spasmodic, end-stopped.
It pulses once; slips in a rock with a gulp.

Lizard, a poem by Robin Robertson, who has won the forward prize, UK’s most valuable poetry award for best collection.