Scan

I shall be radioactive
For eight hours afterwards
And must be careful
To avoid intimate contact.
The prospect of this
Alarms me, but what now
Suddenly comes to mind
Is just how alone I felt
Standing in Hereford Cathedral
October 1962
Beside the Mappa Mundi
With Krushchev banging on
As nuclear war seemed
Unavoidable, that the world
Could soon be dust, this sacred
Storehouse of humanity
And faith be flattened
In an instant. Eight hours
Or not much more
Was all I’d have to hurry home
Before our precious intimacy
Would vanish in the void
And love, left echoing,
Become an empty word.