Wednesday, 30 August 2017

Detritus

When I’m detritus, as my father lain,
A stiffened rodent on a bedroom floor -
Poor carcass; man I knew, but then no more –
Coarse-furred mouse, nudged beside a storm-sluiced drain;
When I’ve absconded, seeming to disdain
To quicken friends and this sloughed shape I wore,
My warmth and animation to withdraw,
Leaving untenanted this fled demesne,
Deserting to the an-aesthetic night,
Will words and thoughts, that thronged my waking mind
And showed on monitors as cheering light,
Ideas housed there that sprang so unconfined,
Be seen to be some proof of life that might
Mean mark of change or cause was left behind?

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