Above Florida

for Nicholas Battye 1950-2004

The last time I saw you is suddenly the last.

A message slipped me by the ether just before boarding, opened mid-flight.

Your flesh now meat is started on its slow fall to water, air and earth.

My love remains but what’s its object now?

I do not think your ghost can squeeze into this narrow cabin in the upper air, above Florida.

Are you at peace, poor traveller?

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