(for Dylan)
In between
The dialling tone
the thump of skull
On jagged stone,
Accidents
And little deaths
The distant father
Holds his breath.
The small boy’s question
Later on,
The pointing finger
Of your son,
The eunuch heart
That skips a beat
And was it true?
And where were
You?
When
Infant blood
Dripped on the sheet?