02 02 21

after a little combing
and the max ration
there were no abstentions
from darkness to darkness
against the rectangular opening
in the deserted street a
slip of paper
gripped my hand
but the wide swathe around it
could only come from a wet brain
punched into the snow
as consciousness came back
there was a couch
a substitute body of mine

Tom Raworth« Eternal Sections »Collected Poems[1993] Carcanet2003p. 410