FOR GRAEME DUCKWORTH/GRAEME SWAN
Unlike me, Graeme,
sleeping in the open, noticed
the moon, believing
that it was behaving
erratically, appearing
not where it ought to be, thus
indicating that the earth was turning
wrongly, thus
heralding catastrophe.
Quentin, the hippy
brother, found
dead, beheaded
by a railway track,
he too saw
everywhere, evil
universal, human and superhuman,
rise, over against him, deliberate
and cruel, no
natural phenomenon.
And now, with Graeme also
dead, found (so I am told)
in a room full of flies, that
flame snuffed out, the moon
continues to dance, the shadows still
shifting the world.