Now hanging above the earth
Mindful only of a swirl of images
And spiritual drought
I have become dis-eased
Conscious of my acidic, bill-filled stomach
Car seat body, screen-screwed eyes
Tense, twittering neurons
In semi-sleepless nights.
This aging image needs Viagra,
The regular pump of a gym treadmill
A bronzing holiday or big lottery saviour.
I saw a hearse today
And wondered about the empty husk –
Those suited remains within that polished box
With it’s gilded handles
Transported in a black-bright limousine
Adorned with dying flowers
To an industrial burning centre.
What do I live for?
To whom do I give my allegiance?
Where and when did I lose
My child’s heart’s vision?
How much have I really love