Not for Discussion
When she fell ill, I told him the same day.
It’s terrible, it’s terrible – these words
were all he said or could find to say,
man to man, over the fence, and two yards’
gap landed me another planet away.
We play the pat posturings of pretence:
Christmas card for card, my proffered spanner
at his garage door, his squeezed-out comments
on the weather – the lips are kept thinner,
and it’s a brick wall now, not a flimsy fence.
A man tanked in double glass, chubbed indoors,
cavity-valiumed with TV, he’s
wired for all-round bliss; hermetic décors
admit no fear, keep out What’s-his-name who’s
a real-life reminder of what he ignores.
Clearly behind smiles, I’m supposed to hide!
Mankind – I thought we travelled together:
cruising round the sun, a shared cabin-ride?
No, a man may ground himself – whenever
the sensors detect the Invader outside.