The planetrees must know madmen, madwomen -
Planted a century ago. November's
Sun blazes embers
Redly through eye corners, "You too
Are human, even if you're mad.", sun says.
As do the planes. Perhaps psychosis
Makes one's fright of oneself worse?
But the planes line the avenue stiffly, obstinately:
"This is humanity." they say.
"And happiness in Claybury." their sockets sticking
With bare needles like knitting,
They've seen sufferers find peace
Since bindings in wet sheets,
Now it is tablets, ECT, injections.
There's no apology, there is routine.
Sunset's red, redder than nervous terror
Don't be afraid, alone:
Blow up the crisp-packet of dark id
Clap it smacked! Health is that bit further
Off. Planes root in the present and insist on happiness.
