Very occasionally, but only sometimes,
I can hear the noise that nobody heard.
My cold mind strikes a chord. Pavement
Slabs boiling under the lamp-light, sizzling
In the rain, torrential salty cloud-tears.

A faint whistle, gentle blowing, soft-gazed
And patient, stirs past the eighth floor,
Descends to the seventh, sixth, then five,
Falling four more down when a sharp rise
In rain, splashing, hears the impact -

Crack. Wet and purposeless. Smashing hard
Against the concrete bristles. The splash as
She slumps, back-down, in a quiet back alley
Behind the car-park, lying to rest then, asleep
In a cry that nobody heard.