Monday, 1 February 2016

Love Song From a Library

Why must the story of our death precede the story of our life

A man had fallen on Deansgate, the story went
Open as the leaves of his book
He had thrown to the kerb.  Someone said
The bang of  paper, was strangely shaking
Like a bird with its wings clipped
Trying to turn.

Yearn to be close to the action
-          My brief – although breaking
As I chose library, learning
That so many stares
Searched for something deeper
Than ambulances, policemen
I clutched the spine in my fingers
Where his hands
Once were.

We are taught to look forward
To tragedy, accident
But isn’t this habitat
The paper confirmed
Compiled and looked over
Rather than the writers who wrote him
Into a bulletin

The feel of paper
Hard to imagine
Before he was taken by circumstance

And returned, and returned. 

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