if people had smuggled animals
onto the bus I hadn’t noticed
the fields were silver in the dawn
church goers wrapped themselves in their myths
and out of the earth the old cries came
no one noticed heeded or believed
nor in the road’s plaintive appeal

so be it… the dead lined the way
waving farewell or…
hats were doffed smiles no not smiles…
workers stood up from the fields
and watched our passing
some with envy some with regret
the smell of schnapps was something we shared
there were no songs but heavy sleep
pale eyes expelled smoke

and the dawn sun startled us with its cold fire
my words had already banished me
but I hoped our bodies might meet
before the scrap-yard of longing
closed its bloody gates

I was unsure in the new city
tripping over memory’s shoelaces
when the light of mid-morning
warmed my feet
and I danced over the river

you were surprised by my voice
calling out to you
on the street
but you should not have been
that is what it had been doing
for a long time
since the time we had met
and before