1

The kings who have gone
left us the relics of their forgettable names –
like Aleece or Kush

They left us their peculiar crowns
shards of skeletons
fish-heads
unpronounceable words
kohl-sticks
commandments
and eulogies graven in stone

Yet you are
             lit up beside me 
             wherever your throne sets down
Live blood in dead veins –
you truly are unforgettable

2

You accompany me
to the gates of ancient Rome
reaching the ends of perfection
as you envisage grace threading each tender aperture
as you envisage the faultless line and the perfect circle

Let us be brothers in stone
hand in hand
fingers entwined –
and then, 

on the threshold of a bar
we clink our glasses
as you add the last touch
to a face already dreaming its history

3

Which of us is the key?
Your door or mine?

4

Silence is bliss
Life is bliss
Creation is bliss 
             Even though his chair is empty 
             even though he is gone 
             darkness is alight
with the presence of his embrace

5

What is the key?


London, 30 March 2006