The cries of the distant
damaged people
can hardly be heard
through the mist.
In the pale intermission
notating birdsong
the view becomes
an absence of view.
This new disconnect
floats like soft milk
between hard blocks
where populations live.
No-one lives in the mist
abode of the defunct
they keen and clatter
at the unopened window.
Time-stained, the Viking ship
sails into town across the land
with its figurehead grimacing
with its rows of wreathed warriors.
