Jahrhundertwende
Always saying goodbye, or goodnight; never quite
with us, never quite gone; balancing on the final
moment. For it’s easier somehow to be always
leaving, autumnal and crepuscular, half-season,
half-light.
So you can linger if you wish
in a deckchair on the Lido, watch the sunset,
see the century out. You can pack and
unpack your bags, and ignore the warnings
that over the water, the plague is seeping
along the streets.
Whatever might be fading
before your eyes: the boy with rotten teeth,
the madman’s castle, the corroding forest,
the park they say is dead, you will always look
back in blindness and make it beautiful.
[from MTFLG, McIndoe]
© The Estate of Bill Sewell 2004
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