Poem 44

The sense of war … being at odds with everything … scenes borrowed from war films … the title refers to Louis XIV L’état, c’est moi …

… the woman with a ruined face is an artefact of night terrors I occasionally get – people coming into my room and staring at me as I sleep …

La Guerre, C’est Moi

Where is this war that has broken out
tilting the streets so I stumble
stopping my car at every red light?
I'm struggling all day with something
   all night a woman with a ruined face looks at me
my leave is up
I'm in the railway station
looking smarter than ever
   wanting to vomit
I'm leaving you with a small child
                                      waving goodbye
I'm doing what has to be done

this war that boils in my knuckles
    that's loosened my teeth
this war that stops me getting an erection
that condemns me to death 
    in bed
where is it? what news of the enemy?
    already I've been scatterbrained for a week
looking to run out and shoot a gun
or toss flowers
                 evenings I go for long walks in the library
I expect to be lit by flames
  in the middle of the night