Dusk came early that morning

people woke to go home

the streets of their dreams were littered with snow

the church bells tolled for the death of Gods yet unborn.

the irises defied the rain; the smoke from the funeral pyres

smelt of fresh bread; the cinemas slowly emptied of truth,

and that crow with the sun in its beak circles the city.

darkness falls from its feathers. stars 

appear in patterns cut from dressmakers’ designs. 

we wear their fashions. 

look,

the cripple dances in his mother’s womb  

he dances among the garbage. 

the world turns as he stumbles.