it happens undercover of the grey early November
first the ghost sign veiled by the scaffolding on Dalry Road
flash-remembered: a nightmare about the decapitation
then, a trail of bloody footprints across North Bridge
imagining the flash of truth in the decapitation
so I go to the museum to eat my sandwich
a place where beauty stays with the vulnerable
where severed things don’t die, where there’s a poster
of an exhibition that has not yet opened
title:
‘injecting hope’