Dockland

Thinking of a photograph
I try to drive towards the sunset.
Veering off course
chasing a golden moment
in which the purple haze sky
explodes behind cranes and razor wire
burning up the sea
I glance from the traffic
down long lines of glazed brick terraces
framing the dark drama of back lit clouds
and the promise of a shoreline
but by the time I can turn
I am too late
heaven's fire is extinguished
the deep blue of early night has fallen
and I am on earth again.

Granite

Loops repeat.
Slices of life.
Butchered.
Prime cuts.
Of sensation
Cleaved into
Neat shapes.
Gorge yourself
Tear into
Raw flesh
Drive thru
24/7
Feed
Insatiable.
No one cares
Like you.

Ultraviolet

Straw dry.

Tinderbox.

Angry.

Stamping.

Kicking.

The stable door.

is bolted

but the hinges

are loose

Clouds of dust,

droning wasps,

biting flies.

The sun is high

and the tap still drips