Thirty nine pence.

heavy as the weight of winter, on a chest, on pockets

empty— dullness, mires, misery fended off like feral 
bats, baiting, biting, laying lamentations on me
like stakes to fires, blooming, still in the blunt chase.

bills, bouncing, buzzing, bleating like sheep, incessant;
braying like heated mares, to no avail— yea, again, 
fortitudinous as sheer glaciers, whalers, in iced haste.