Streets

Streets

walled by houses

doors

shut, iron locks

life

rank

smells she would like

to forget, yet

a coffin is carried out

at mid-day

a mourning mother

sisters, brothers.

He had

said

nothing, yet

he might

have loved

her.

Her mind

wakeful

like the streets

that hear

voices, whispers, screams.

They don't tell.

Time blackened

brick

takes note of all

that passes over

cobbled stone

all that is

thrown up

without thought.

She imagines

the sea, at the end

of the streets

the turnings, ceaseless

barking of stray dogs.

Blue sea

red sun

sand, a sky unspent

and he

rising from the sea.