a river of cloud drowns the beacons
crane lights and petrol signs
float along the street
in alleyways people hold
on to the edge of creation
to lowered faces that meet them in the rain
the cadence of coins
dropped
in pools of water
the ripple of aeroplanes overhead
lonely horses slip from the side of a stream
the mother’s breast rested
beside fallen telegraph poles
speeding lights congregate
towards lost destinations
draw the coast along the head
rising from the dimmers
the sound of a train loaded down
the mull of electricity
voices bearing on the wires
reaching out for satellites
buzzed through the temporary
shades of darkness across the sky
like ghosts of birds moving
towards the shores of hidden islands