pigeons still
wait for meals
by that bench
where Sun once grew
in tufts of gold

girls skipping classes
to window shop
their scarves wild
and their nails chipped

tough boys go out and smoke
and cough and dance
and act brave
and cut their hair
in the dark

and words of a new language
tumble down our tongues
head over heels
tasting strange
but falling into place
after all

dust and smoke
old bones
and rusty thrones
fade in the mist
our train
heading to a new place
will we be missed?

will we forget the smell
are we destined
forever to dwell
on stories
and words
that swell
out of eyes
and hands
and feet
out of
foggy tunnels
and ***** sleet

a breaking of a tooth
a crackle crunch of pain
and a perfect dapple
of a dying drying oak
coming together
in the eyes and ears of a storm

that's the place to find all your days
to remember all your sinewy sins
to let the honey-heavy heat of shame
wash you clean
down to your yellowed toes

that's the place to cry
and to listen and to lie

your red rosy fingers blurring your face
and your ordinary eyes
just a common brown

they could always see
so well

there's dust on her face
but she's a girl still
her sensible cotton shirt
is black and loose
and she's so wide now
the dreams and the limbs
strewn across the canvas of her days

cutting into her workman's hands
handles of rough bags
leaving white marks in her blood
still swelling
a little thicker now

stray hairs on her neck
that would have terrified her once
stand proud
just something that's here to stay
and she is not her own
she is her children's blood
and laundry days
and all those times she smiled
through tears
and patted little heads

she's more real the the ocean
she never saw
and just as salty
just as wild