to sleep

the moon is making her bed on the sea
see, there she lays her silken sheets
there, she steps out from behind the hills
and bends, here, at the foot of the road
at the foot of the sand dunes
billowing silk in her hands, throwing it
onto the waves, there, her necklace of gleaming
glittering highway lights
her night lights spread across
the flats, the wind-scoured plains
where the poor burn tyres to keep warm
burn paraffin to cook
steal bread to stay alive, beg for just 5 cents please,
bless you, madam, bless you
see, she bends in grace
stately, glorious, perfumed with smoke and grief
look, she lies down before us
and surrenders
to the tide.

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January 2012
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