far off police sirens are ringing on the third day

back at home: proof of a life lived in analogue—

                               as black cows against a sky 

                               preface the fall of Tuesday’s 

                               arrival grace—

those ruins made out from an aerial view

once just a sculpture or a tomb

 

returning once only to dwell on an estate 

& squint at the courage to stay in one place

 

& mark relentless solstice 

with the same technique for giving up 

as ghost gums dangling 

in contested sleep against porch light