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.