Down the Limey


On a Latitude that can swell and sap

we heard the hanging trees crack like bones under strain

skinned of leaves

their limbs bandaged instead

with the limp webs of plastic bags

that seem to grow toward the ground, and curdle in your hands.


The earth here drops into a trap

we felt the sinking bricks bite like teeth under torture

throats of industry

their kiln necks strangled inside

the soiled barrows of lime slags

that seem to bleed from the flanks, and clot in your stride.


At a longitude that breathed and spat

we watched the dyke wall collapse like lungs under water

deboned of planks

the jetty ribs chewed by tides

with the bobbing heads of car tires

that place you learned to ride a bike, is digested out to sea.