Photo by Robert Norbury The stretching of a bird through darkening Space has the structure of a glance. It stays close to the water To need less. White notches fill the sky, the cell Of a god who has lost count But still hopes. Does it end? We can’t all be blessed With bodies arranged like horizons. Subscribe to the New Statesman today and save 75% The bird makes a calculation. It is panicking away from the experiment Life could be.                                    Look                                            after me. The hours are deepening. The air is suddenly hectic with questions It wants to avoid.…