1. I marvelled at the squid’s mantel, The sloth’s curled hook, The magenta lips of orchids. Behind me barbed feathers Tore air to turbulence And then were still. The soluble sky thickened As grief heats an eye To astonished blindness. 2. You who love me best, Have you traced my pulse Through city walls? I was lost already, I retched As oil plumed through my blood. The clouds are still falling Huge and angry wounds. Your heart is an executive Who remembers nothing. My face is the face of a man Who looks down amazed At the murdered thing His stained hands Open like hunger. 3. It will not lack colour – consider the intricate brachiation of silica, pale spicules green with cyanide algae – conifer needles in snow, their colours unaccountably reversed – or the butterfly lustre of sulphur lakes. Will your eyes blur at this beauty so unlike you? No, you have long dissolved, you, your reflections, your aqueous desires, into the flame-coloured sky.