Funeral Suit

He came by in his funeral suit

In an open-hearted shade of blue

Asked me what I like to do

On a July evening

To Bermondsey or to Shoreditch

I said, "I don't know which is which"

The night's a thread for him to stitch

For me, the unbelieving

In the end, we just stay in

And gesture with our mugs of gin

Dance around this borrowed kitchen

A stop-and-start dumb show

I am a cold filament

We advance in tender increments

Between the past and future tense

Test the weight of both