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’.
1 May 2015