So what if the dead don’t disagree?

Their silence is our calendar

of slowmotion machines

& the whole livery line bows down

to what’s calcified

some three decades on.

But can you let another go first?

I can though I’ll have to hold the wall

shaky as I am

as I wait for my head to

settle its vertigo.

From what, daylight?

No, just night’s plan tearing a hole

in the ineluctable desire

for what we wish

to be incapable of.