I looked back; the city stretched and
pulled me under. I’ve lost my mind
in its jewellery stores and rat-holes,
eyes rolled seasick across its floors.
Angels and murderers ride the trains
mutely and cough when they cover
their mouths, flash their knives,
bare their teeth.
I’ll still walk a broken tunnel
long after I am gone
when the place has been picked clean
and the sun has passed out in her party
dress, the fairs all rolled away and
electric lights dying –
when I’ve made it to the edges
crying and muddy on the banks of the river
where God and the water meet
she’ll still be spread there, the sleeping
body of Ra, drunk cheeks for the
earth to warm its hands upon,
between the cold flowers
of the morning after.