The cows in my head have taken to listening to music.
fugue dp223
for Lara
she runs for her life the music following
haunting every waking moment the voices
of those others weaving the gaps
like the woof and warp of a song
a song half forgotten half remembered
her life has turned contrapuntal
amnesic episodic amnesic again
days lost in fog clouds hanging over her head
wrapping it round swathed in a cloth of sound
she has always been the minor relative
never the major nor the dominant
black sheep can be a tonic but her story
her exposition is always chased away
for the refugee there is no chord
to hang her world on it is disappeared
like the girl with a fugue of memory
her identity lost her subject dissociated
a kind of shame that no one will quite grasp
it is social death clearly warped she will not
attend the event after all no final entry
instead she will be the eternal counterpoint
the free one whose coda is a single jubilant voice
