Like a blushing timebomb it parachutes
when its time is up. It is dying already.
Its brittle skin and ice hardened arteries
map a spiral of luminous decay.
This show of futile gallows defiance
should be a warning to all of us
and yet we praise the dissolute beauty
the sang-froid of its gaudy silk waistcoat.
This hostage to gravity has lost its grip.
After the fall, its final ignominy
is to end up as sullen pavement slush
an inconvenience, a broken hip
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