One we’ve dissolved our office,
scrambled the files, regrouped,
our propaganda no longer exists
in which to deny Two the war’s lost,
the phone book the new roll of honour,
it’s not true we were beaten nor
Three we’re dead meat now
in the deep stale air of the bunker,
our voices taping instructions:
What to do when the current runs out,
What to do with the blood, the world
taken down like a line of washing,
full stop. We’re not here,
we’re all moving on, some at work
on the new speech, the others
planning the deployments,
counting the syringes, the blankets,
the new ways to be nothing at all.