The Dry Ocean
The room smells of paint
easiest days of her life have been spent
but here light shifts across a dusty desk
in the desert a hare freezes mid-air
goal posts tape wrapped cross-bar
a horse stops mid-gallop
earth tilts canal-side railings guard
leaves to concrete in three minutes
just radio, tea and dim lights
written in blue: melatonin and glasses
here lava-lamp like rain patterns
scroll across the desk
autumn leaves a dry ocean on fresh tarmac
