Currents

Closing down the day, a layer of powder and a liquid moon,

plants edging the closed cafe, left to die.

I cannot stomach the brutality of nature.

.-.-.-.

In the gentle wind’s nudge, I find myself able to move.

What a misplaced sense of empathy--

I, too, am alone tonight

between the ease of the dark harbour's smell

and the last restaurants closing down.

.-.-.-.

The yacht's lights obliterate any memory of death.

A window: a tiny black hole.

.-.-.-.

In this city of failures

of murmured violence

in this city

pregnant with many other cities

pregnant with other cities…

With the eucalyptus, I smile at the arrival of rain.