You can’t stave off night
with your pursuit of sunny
activities, the leisure
to bask into twilight, or sport
against the clock where there
are no street lights.
To keep it all going longer,
to stretch out waking hours,
hedge against the loss of light.
All those savings lost
to the deceased, a referendum
that won’t pay out,
governments ignoring
results. They know the truth
about curtains and chickens,
and won’t have any of it: good
for business if not for children,
though regarding the latter,
they insist this is subjective.
Those old divisions between town
and country? Luminous
gerrymanders? Racing across
the roughest roads with sporty
clarity, looking into sunset eyes
of animals they’ll eat,
loaded on the truck at the crack
of dawn, assured they’ll miss
the afternoon heat,
more humane on the meat,
more space to relax
after a hard day’s work.