Electricity –
Harsh service station light. Friday 13 January, 1984 –
She puts a cigarette to her lips, a lighter to her cigarette.
A dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate –
He waits.
She inhales, her eyes closed. She exhales, her eyes open.
He picks at the solid red sauce on the plastic ketchup bottle.
‘Early March,’ she says. ‘South Yorkshire.’
He rolls the solid red sauce into a soft bloody ball.
She stubs out the cigarette. She puts an envelope on the table.
He squashes the ball between his fingers and thumb –
Predicts the ruin of the State.
She stands up.
He shuts his eyes until she’s almost gone. The stink still here –
Power.