'Was told it wasn't he but was,
but promised it was she, was not;
they struggled to be we, and just forgot.'
Bad birds, struck the skies of English parks
like shuttlecocks or two clock hands,
kicking chestnuts, unlocking four fingers.
And now the bell thunders in his head,
'Nero, is dead.'
And when he lands with the grass beneath his feet,
it's for the first time, but his heart of wings