Watching clouds in the windows of the building across the street
the sky is blue and the clouds are white. They say the sky is that colour
because of the sea. No one knows the colour of the sea
eyes decide it’s blue-green
or black shellac at dusk
with a trailing moon
whose horror line
is white into infinity. The leaves of the footpath tree
have no grounds for dismissal
and fall anyway
in love with anyone
my house / battered cars
little silver muscles
stars blink and point
long lost fanau! If I could be one colour
to the naked human eye
I would be true grey
not a trick of the light
reflected forest marsh
band of whirling organs
dismantled ancient
omen. How can the concrete truck stay pearl
and the sorry ships
hosed down beside the pier
a fist a cross to bear
until fresh water runs
runs clear.