Morbleu

—rushes and there’s no more a whirl of empty dresses—

in this mudcracked room palm frond feathers helicopter downwards shallow roots torn a broken bird song explodes on a frequency of earth and lime too high to hear

—we haven’t got— a heart beat

—haven’t got five minutes a groan of sea shushes up on shore

—rushes and there’s no— no ha ha ha of music and radio the thud of workmen clatter of hollow poles—scaffolding a truck in first gear footsteps school an O of bells clang-

clangs across the river and then the hush of marble eyes unseen eyes unopened endlessly eyes

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