In Vigil.

The angel is watching.  This is another stand, in another plot. A dark wind chases over the mountain for three days. At night the zinc cladding rattles.


Bent taxis bulldoze through the town. A micro-blaster wakes, hard hats and cement-dust choke the air again. Shadows grow into the skin of the invisible builders. Foundations laid over an old sadness.


A new morning and the world rambles past the skeleton buildings.  No efforts made to reconcile.