While some sardonic pianist plays on in the corner, uninvited, I did not see the star.
Did you clench the throbbing atom,
The clod of dirt that once was our world?
Classical times enter from a hundred years ago, like an inflamed goose-step.
‘But they weren’t doing the goose-step them.’
‘Were they not?’
Cars drive past and you realise that cities have walls too.
Brutal sounds of slick mechanics,
And now biology, body, blood.
Some have given their body to free us all;
We have given our own — but for what?
‘It isn’t the time for foresight.’
Is it not?