Like a satellite, all I can see of him is a distant silver spin – Here’s an attempt / variation on a curtal sonnet, based on an overheard quote of a while ago… Zones 1 to 5 Like a satellite, all I can see of him is a distant silver spin: a storm system on his thin- ning scalp. He echoes every single automated place name, loudly: Cottingley. Morley. Batley. “Lidl’s profits are up.” His eyes, unseen, are its sun-yellow signs. “Nobody lives where they work anymore. We spend all