Threnody (November)

Our work screens are the stream of rust-free waterproof poppies, minuted by the news feed, flowing direct to the catafalque. Our early walk meets the ageing digger’s price-tag poppy tray. Bright November light turns us each into familiar human shape. Item: thousands of miles of ocean whitened under iron sterns. Item: old photograph of lonely landscape fought over below ground. Lost voices we guess at, returning in sounds and laughter, we make our own, talking in past tense of grandparents. We cry out ‘No more!’ as brainless technology synchs up, inventing more modern ways of getting us in its sights.

Threnody (November)

Our work screens are the stream of rust-free waterproof poppies,

Minuted by the news feed, flowing direct to the catafalque.

Our early walk meets the ageing digger’s price-tag poppy tray.

Bright November light turns us each into familiar human shape.

Item: thousands of miles of ocean whitened under iron sterns.

Item: old photograph of lonely landscape fought over below ground.

Lost voices we guess at, returning in sounds and laughter

We make our own, talking in past tense of grandparents.

We cry out ‘No more!’ as brainless technology synchs up,

Inventing more modern ways of getting us in its sights.