I am afraid. Sound has stopped in the day And these images reel over And over. Why all those tears, The wild grief on his face Outside the taxi? The sap Of mourning rises In our waving guests. You sing behind the tall cake Like a deserted bride Who persists, demented, And goes through the ritual. When I went to the Gents There was a skewered heart And a legend of love. Let me Sleep on your breast to the airport.