This one is terrific. That first stanza's process of the scene collapsing or decaying into hard grime with the image of something horrible being born is a marvel in and of itself. It sets the tone for what is done between the first stanza and the closing two lines, which just blow me away! What are we waiting for? The impossible. This is deeply disturbing and beautiful and, yes, Larkinic, but too good to compare to anything.
RM
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