Cauterized incision still hot to the touch, Stitched together scar tissue, This is too much. Too much to take issue With. Hiding the void within. Still waters lapping, How now to begin?
Playing shadows on the wall, Fire flickers from eye to eye, From generation to generation, From Africa where we were born, To the distant moon where we have stood, And looked back at earthrise,
Suspended in windless immobility, Killing machines repackaged as what? Tourist attraction, life-sized airfix kits? It’s hard to think men fought in these,
The city streets lie muffled under snow The lofty street light, next’ the river, bends his head, Giving his gift of a sharp-bright glow, To the young man with meat and bread,