It is dark outside.
Except, perhaps, for wandering headlights
Or the glint of teeth spread open in un-hinged glee.
Drunken wading through the dirty air
(because of course we can’t smell the sea)
Is it wicked not to care?
And in the day the city drums
A slow descent.
Faces slung across dry bones
…or something about the way the sun burns.
(but in my ears ring dulcet tones)
‘The sky is black
The sky is red’
Let me hang stars about my head
Strap black velvet round your arms and mourn
The trees murmur in the breeze
Soon it will be dawn.