I stand alone in a hollow field
with nothing but a handful of memory for company
It is dusk here
The birds have all flown off
to better, silent futures
But for me there is no escape – no wings
Four blank walls of heavy air close around me like snowdrifts
How do you know
when to pull the bodies out of the water?
How do you know how –
how do you know what to do?
Maybe it’s human instinct
Maybe it’s the fact you can’t help wondering
if it was you instead
and four blank seawalls closing in like an empty dusk