Marchmont Road

Above the tarmacked voids that breach
the ranks of tenements, a reach

of sky to which the day has lent
a calibrated gradient

of northern blue. Along the road
the pelt of antlike cars is slowed:

a hearse in mirror-faultless gloss
precedes its cavalcade of loss,

and while this dark skein passes, I
cast out for where its gist might lie…

Stop it. No moment must encore
itself in some pert metaphor.

Suspend that distanced commentary.
Take a deep breath. Now be here. Be.