Granada

‘I don’t care to look back. The human history is not so hot.’
Zero Mostel

When I was big and you were little,
I sang a different song. An isolated
sundial pointer tells me it is night.
I’m here for the dawn, a dark hour’s climbing
to be ready for that slow inundation.

As easy as saying ‘let there be light’,
but you need to know what light is first.
The double-glazed silence over the landscape,
this yellow late summer landscape.
A walk through our controlled-burn future.

Of course, it is useless to write a poem
that is, more or less, ‘Standing in the Alhambra
on the day of Worrying Election Results’.
Reality is a battle you’ve lost;
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