Sport 30: Peter Black-Real Fiction
Along the corridor little lights always come on at the side.
He was carrying her photograph in one hand
and more or less dragging the child.
A few survivors run for cover.
Each night at six we all go live to death.
there's someone on the spot
to help me hold my breath.
If I could just cry out
to my far, forgetful lover …
or if you could only love me
oh World I am walking over.