--- G I L E S   G O O D L A N D

O the night was hungry and silence clung
and the houses edged a bruise 
that infects all neighbourhoods in time.

O the clouds were in pieces 
and the sun unset
vicinities under the weight of observation.

O the people still skittled about the park
and the forest was stiffening
ducks, turning them the colour of lichen.

O words massed into some ponderable horse 
and the moon apportioned 
the streetlight to outbid the stars.

O the roomlit marigolds crumpled
and under earth's shadow
with its thick nib night struck out another day.