1981, the year a blue stencil,
verso, gloss off-white,
unstuck blu-tacked, loose framed,
your grin and your cow-lick,
and causal wear,
your ghost in my machine.
A bawling, squall, curtains
of hail and rain hang outside,
ladder, paint, spots and tans
and frayed carpet,
the dark, shaggy corner swamp,
where I found you, sideways-stacked,
Your thin leer the bend of years,
your dark hair the colour of
night, videotape and the old Audi,
the pose has gone with fashion,
and smile with the soil; yet
the room vibrates with silence.
Not even the mantel clock,
can tick for your image embossed.