If it were a simple question
anyone could sample before answering;
before boarding the plane
into the exclusive, first-class section
of the cabin occupying the space
directly behind the cockpit
the co-pilot stumbles across
their feet with his aging horseflesh
his total & unnerving constipation
of apologetics. He knows about time.
He knows about space. Wind drag
& the desperate cries of a field
bird
as her nest is circled by predators
A family of dogs / Their beautiful
noses /
sniffing up springtime / & saving
the snapshots /
House lizards are racing / towards
insect communities /
across the red-bricks of warm wintered
chimneys /
Across the stories of mortar
This guy over here
wants a shot of whisky
& sing the harrowing truths
of inequality, after all...
after all his baying & busking
he may curse time or his lot
in life or the brilliant fish
that escaped the hook
or the lovely servant girl
who was never his wife
with her invisible treasures
locked deep, deep inside
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