The me-ring that you buy yourself—
I want to buy a blood-bright gown
and let into its collar the satin
you gave me as a hood
which makes me think of you, day
and night. The wind is wrapped
in the longish grass, it shoots
the constant arrow of its voice
so all the time you are looking,
looking, at a moon possessed
by its planned dreaming. I cannot say
how sooner or later it must start,
it does start, in those parts of town
that mock their own seediness.
I am no longer standing in the coal
lorry, telling people anything.
I am under it, I am either under
the vehicle beside the wheel,
or behind it, beside the wheel,
my view has now dramatically altered.
I remember saying, do not run—
you say that you noticed two bullet cases
on the ground near the Saracen,
and they were split wide open
like flowers, spent, yes.
Because of the way they were open,
they were almost like daffodils—
everyone was saying that day
that if they spread like daffodils,
they were supposed to be dumb—
I know nothing about anything like that.
A Knight of Malta came to assist.
He was half-down, shaking, putting his hand
out in front of him, you know,
not fully up, crouching down, that was the way
he walked, hand out, with a handkerchief in it.
I had only a mental view, I saw nothing,
nothing is perfect in this world of riots,
there are always gawpers, hooligans, I am afraid,
on the edge of a riot.
From seventeen minutes past four,
you must have been there, Soldier S,
as we have to call you. Are you saying
something that was put into your mouth?
We can’t have that now,
can we, Private?
Things may have been altered to suit
things at the time. Can I just,
will you bear with me a moment?
If people want to have a conversation
will they please go outside, at once?
If you have noticed I have not relied
on a memory that does not exist.
You do not have a memory,
do you, do you? If you say so,
yes. No, you have said so.
I follow, it is not correct,
but I follow, yes.