to work

forming
the fields read
tacitly
– like a prose poem
typeset in corduroy
and serge

morning
the sunrise-writer
– warmly
stuck for illumination
yet casting softly
upon buds

bon voyage!

train windows would appear to offer
a double-glazed derive for the goal-getter
or time-limited, terminal, declining commuter

but no. because instead,

bygoing england will embalm you like linen
and you’ll never pause to check your make-up
until one day, somebody arrives to dig you up

then, remarking upon your preservative sheen
they’ll leave little marks on the safety glass pane
just where your sightlines might once have been