The Smokey Bay

Poem written upon driving through Reykjavik, Iceland at night

Alien green overseer,

A foreign guardian,

An uncaring voyeur,

Our progress marked.


As the Tarmac hill subsides,

a great plateau of silver and amber grows.

scattered; ordered stars

sharp and stubborn flames


Mathematical carving,

Edifices of stone,

All disjointed,

Each to its own,


Majestic

An unholy eruption of perpendicular lines

Steadfast; permanent


Cold water: hot ice

Shivers beneath the monoliths

Depth no counter to height

Fluidity subject to solidity


Still the bicoloured lights burned,

And the water returned the gaze,

And a green know only to space,

Played in the water, a turquoise haze.


But creeping slowly, breathing silently, squeezing gently, 

like a child holding a doomed butterfly, 

the land's fingers close on the extra terrestrial. 

The shelter built by hands,

To be deconstructed.

the light: ignited by man

Unaware of the impending extinguishing.

The End

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