After years of trying to connect,
years of red lights flashing,

he walked, one night, down the railway,
smack into a coming train.

They salvaged what they could of him;
they went through the old ceremonies,

lowering the coffin in the grave.
But his remains were everywhere…

His severed hand, his blood-streaked hair
cropping up in nightmares.

His reluctant smile flickering
at discos, at weddings.

His disembodied bones
at every burial.