Lowry, Malcolm: Comfort

You are not the first man to have shakes

The wheels, the horrors, to wear the scarlet

Snowshoe, nor yet the invincible harlot

Dogged by eyes like fishnets. Leaning, aches

The iron face with agate eyes, and wakes

The guardian angel, sees the past,

A parthenon of possibilities.

You are not the first caught lying

Nor yet to be told that you are dying.