Blood from my wounds drip
Drop by drop
Into an uncongealing pool.
Hounds do not pain
There’s even a joy in them
For I know that you will
Drown in the pool of my blood
Helpless, blinded by its bloody thickness
Unable to cry for help.
For my blood would have choked
Your throat and sealed your lips,
And only then my blood congeal.
**
J J Puthucheary, New Cauldron, Hilary Term 1952/53