Blackened are the high walls lunar grey
Cloud makes distinct then returns to night.
Buttoned in japara dark, rain stopped left and right.
Footsteps budge puddles, skid bluestone spray.
At daybreak beneath hard Flinders viaduct
Black figures walk shadowless towards work.
Old river slows between ripple and murk,
Shop fronts blacked in, back lanes good luck.
And thus cold day stands out in its black gear
Crossing in crowds intersections and malls
Returned to winter pocket cotton cool
Images turned down to a screen dark pool
Where overcast cloud suggests by intervals
Smouldering the white sun we imagine there.
