The future never lasts for long.
And is there something stirring here?
On the drizzled streets of Skipton,
a voice comes, offering leaflets –

not as I might expect, or think
important, knowing the stories
of the humanity of God –
but this – “you think we’ve been to space?”

In these words the future falls dead
and deadens the damp atmosphere –
Will England march across the world
ex-nihil again, destroying

any trace of a satellite,
repurposing launchpads to use
as metal to build – what? Nothing
or a ladder to test the sky –

find patterns in the crystal dome
there where the stars are set by God
Where comets bounce off and vanish
back into the void, or heaven.

These people cannot feel safe, nor
accept the realness of defeat –
if they take power, death may come
and our souls fall off the world’s edge