Control of such questions (or the cloaking of control)

would, you saw, be key to these disputed zones.

You, a trained philosopher, had fallen for the ruse

Of a bogus position, seduced by the usual appearances.
Near Blackheath was a fine site for a doorstop

With waiting cameras, had you been able to

Rouse their candidate. They’d ignored your wires.

The overpasses were unbuilt and disapproval climbing.
The campaign music seemed gratuitous now to one

For weeks ensconced in the party van. Woken by a

Water bottle to the head, you’d often enough

Reproached the morning for an incumbent

Hollowed out already. He would tank, no doubt,

While praying for another legal technicality.


After W. H. Auden’s ‘Control of the passes was, he saw, the key’.