View over Nicolson Street
A month ago I could see the horizon.
Now three giant green weathervanes
order the wind about,
while mechanical blue snails
climb slowly up half-finished walls.
Rusty brown spider webs
form on building sides,
capturing fluorescent-yellow moths
and shock-orange flies.
Seemingly motionless,
they scuffle from time to time,
give up the struggle,
then emit puffs of smoke.
In defiance of the green giants
a blue weathervane goes its own way;
an ominous, skeletal, steel finger
pointing directly at my window as if to say,
'You're next.'
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