Now let’s be honest, a strange sweet taste 
Does death give to lips: 
Not at all sour, not at all tart, not at all - 
To whom shall we give our fondest affection - 
Don’t call it love, too schmaltzy - 
To the brick, the earth, the stone, 
The disabled, the deprived, the limp, 
To ravens and warped songs - 
Any reward? - 
Well, they carve your names into the sky 
Or let you gaze at young people in love: 
Some run, some tango, they all in blue 
And blue, natural blue, obsessive blue 
Look summer’s blows if men fall down - 
Why do you crash them so young, town, 
You jealous, maybe sap flowing through blades, 
Maybe a taste of misdemeanour? 
Don’t look, stalk her when she looks 
So blue bleak midwinter, 
Her favourite look to cheat: 
Light, heretic womb where fathers 
Push heavens to birth - 
Blue curtains bar you from light? 
Don’t bother, she chose to live elsewhere: 
Questions, homes, eyes, what bloody waste of time, 
That’s why it skips them, keeps quiet: 
Apples may lure, but red knows better - 
Men don’t when given the tale 
Of lockjaw and a child: 
They trust nods - 
Look, they’re men - 
They trust smiles.