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Should this silent sickness lift
And touch return to us
I wonder shall I fear that rush of feeling?
Walking in the cemetery today,
I startled two lovers
Obscured though they were
By an improvised tent,
Coloured scarves, pinned
And draped between headstones
On the plushest patch of grass,
Bare-faced, mostly naked, embraced
Like two genera of graveflower
Escaping their stony bounds
To mingle and tingle and thread
When our six eyes in that moment met
I was a ghost,
A road killed creature
Stunned in the headlights of sex
We all reached for our masks
As if by this new instinct
