the temptation is to elide
normalise or over-indulge
and not to inhabit

but this is our work
to dwell in the wound
of the occipital pit

not only to trace
the gravel in flesh
the flight of the fighters
the kick-back and bruise

but to reconstitute
M4 early mornings
easy riding huawei

speaker-phone with an aunt
whose well has drawn dust
these eight years of the smoke

to remake the meat
of the leaky stove sit-down
in unfriendly times

to people the portraits
flash-bulb caught in their prime
with bellies and pamphlets
of shrewd recommendations
and twinklings of grief

and all that is lost

since the young are so ready
to haemorrhage freely
to become uninhabited
lighter than smoke

and the truth is not
the sum of abrasions
but the abrasions
attest to the truth


...