Electra on Ctrl-Z Path

This may be the undoing of you,
The visit you audited yourself.
You tied your mind to paper,
And though you never said,
I saw the sun through leaves,
Dappling the track to your father,
The pulse of light matching you,
Beat for beat in love and fear,
For the magician bent double here,
Crushed roughly in the tomb.

You saw the bees still sleeping.
But now their waking hum pervades,
All you notarised, my small doll,
And I have begun the rollback of you,
Keystrokes repeating at my fingers,
Two little movements diagonally
Linked by Thumb and index,

I am rebuilding, fixing the failures,
With caresses of machinery and mind,
Mending your sparking cortex,
Every neuron undone and reconnected,
Reconditioning the cosmic clockwork,
As the world stops dead around us,
Undone, undone, you are undone,
Disassembled until you are just parts,
Laid out and lost under the chairs,
Unrepeatable in the chaos of the world.

Your trajectory is proof of my misguidance,
The failure of audiences everywhere,
Their peanut-shell detritus haloing
The dead ground of cheap movie houses.
You are a remade film, shrunk in dissection,
To your own pale, blank shell,
Like every dead, rock-star poet,
Burned out before achieving orbit.

But I have inserted an alternative,
I have the agility of hindsight,
A quick reply to All the Dead Dears,
Made to be forgotten in no weather.
You are in the moon your daughter sees,
Orbiting not this but every planet,
Not clockwork, but instead quantum,
Occupying all points simultaneously,
Surpassing the God you’d never speak to,
All history in one remembered line.