DEEP IN EUROPE

I a dark hull floating between two floodgates

rest in bed at the hotel while the surrounding city wakes.

The quiet din and the gray light pour in

lifting me gently to the next level: morning.

Wire-tapped horizon. They want to say something, the dead.

They smoke but don’t eat, they don’t breathe but can still speak.

I’ll hurry through the streets like one of them.

The blackened cathedral, heavy as a moon, causes the ebb and flow.