qarrtsiluni

She’s here, an uninvited
guest, clouds clinging to
her coattails.

For her, trees pirouette,
newspapers take off,
calligraphied birds,
the harbour rains
startled fish and sewage,

scaffolding struggles to break
free of its restraints,
walkways sigh and sway,
empty even of beggars.

Lost possessions skeet,
potted plants from balconies,
shoes, a washing line flying
through the city like bunting.

Torn hoardings, road signs,
scuds of glass gyrating in this
carnival dance, the inanimate
brought to life with her breath.

When dark comes,
she blows out the stars,
gutters the moon, veers off
course to the mainland.

We wake to an island in tatters,
the thrum of unfettered things.

by Jo Hemmant

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