Besieged by the windows and eyes.
The same ones that serve me the
daybreak, over and over again.
Each morning, the god-awful dog at the gate.
Each morning, that petrol station and the card
With a busted magnet stripe or whatever it is that you
that thing in English.
The spoils of a dream gone awry. White teeth and howling.
Watch close enough, if you dare. Maybe destiny reads in
Maybe our higher deities know why it never bites, though
well could. With nothing to decode, nothing to fear.
Cocooned in discipline, until sun-down.
Come evening. Come the daybreak after. I want to read
destiny in honest eyes. Cocooned in discipline, until
sun-down and the morning after, the one closing its jaws
around what is soft on the outside and crispy on the