page 145

Above the Auto-dismantler Shop

Underneath me:
a bunch of kids,
all pissed and slack limbed,
lopsided mouths
and jokes with no punchlines,
boys in their teens
leaning into adulthood.

One slaps his hands
barks like a seal,
a girl laughs and hoicks.

On the end wall of this room
hang two seascapes—
they are of warm dusky nights
with mountains like hope on the horizon.

One makes me think of Poseidon
lurking beneath the surface,
an earthquake suppressed under his palm.

The other has a bar of light
horizontal across the centre
like the quiet boy downstairs,
who laughs only occasionally.