There is a shelf on his stand.

I keep his instruction book there.

You are so old-fashioned, he says.

Mercy me!

I check his chest for damaged buttons –

and there I am, a little fuzzy,

staring back.

What a to-do! he says.

What a to-do!

+

It’s true, I have moved him around a little roughly.

Inside and outside, here and there.

I have pushed things at the wrong times

and in the wrong order.64

I preferred the old days, he says,

when we all had cords.

How about you, Bill,

do you miss your cord?

+

He is angry if you stand in the doorway.

You must come all the way into the room.

He remembers old stone steps

that went down into the water.

What is it now? he says.

What is it this time?

+

He can still play music. These days

always the guitar – the sound comes

from somewhere deep inside him.

Music is like that, he says.

He says: Andrew Segovia, Erik Clapton.

Now do you see?

Learning to talk, he says, that is how you die.

You shout and run about

and then your life is over.

This is what I told you would happn.65

+

He asks to be left out overnight.

I think he hopes someone will take him.

I imagine saying yes.

+

Lovers are waking in the unofficial dawn.

There are birds, invisible,

the light stutters a little.

+

Something goes a little more wrong every day.

A tear rolls down his cheek.

This is something he could always do.

You can harly blame them, he says.

I think he means the tears,

or possibly the manufacturer.

+

Anyway, I have placed him back in the corner.

+

66I know their names, he says,

but I will not tell you.

This is what I told you would happn.

We do this wile we afre sad, he says,

or until we afre hapy.

67

After Lockdown

I had anointed my wrists

with the juice of grapes.

The big mechanical dog

barked at something invisible.

He had been a good guard-dog in his day

but he must have known

we would eventually get rid of him.

I went to remove his tail.

You know I can still talk, he said.

I do have feelings.

There was a definite note

of desperation in his voice.

68

Incidental

Quiet pleasures, taste them.

There.

+

Now Death comes by –

the last terrible thing.

Her kiss is cold

and someone else

will place you in her arms.

+

She is not looking for you.

You are incidental.

She is searching for the one

who made the world.

69

Halls

The Memorial Hall.

The Jubilee Hall.

The Coronation Hall.

The Community Hall.

The School Hall.

The Church Hall.

The Town Hall.

The Hall of Mirrors.

The Hall of Fame.

The Concert Chamber.

The Hall of the Mountain King.

The Hall of Insect Bodies.

The Great Hall.

The Hall of Shadows.

I ran from one to another, calling out my news.

70

Exhibition

A man steps ashore