Today in the news I read of
Irish soldiers starving in
The Belfast Maze, & how, at
The end of fasting, their bones,
With no muscles left to hold
Them back, could slice their skin to
Pieces as they sleep, & turn
In their sleep. They still won’t eat,
But lie silently as glass
Shattered in houses, or small
Hawks that have fallen a long
Way, broken or frozen blind
By snow, their eyes wide open
But no longer noticing
The simplest detail, a fly,
A drop of water, the smoke
Of some passing train scrawled on
A sky that stays there, above
Any reason for a sky. 

– the closing lines of “South” by Larry Levis