I see her just rising full above the low houses
and my heart catches hold of her
like an amulet you might keep in your pocket
and caress for comfort, old, well loved, familiar.
She comes with me on my lone and jolting journey
on the empty stinking top deck.
I lose her but she comes back over my shoulder,
companionable, playful, gone again; and there she is,
this time to my right, moving magnificently on ahead
as we pitch over the crest of a hill,
and the bus teeters dangerously towards her.
She remains steady above this crumbling labyrinth of streets,
swerving lights, mad repetition, where everywhere
is still the same lost place.
She is my sole companion; watching her,
I think of all the others who steady themselves
by her full light, return to themselves in her,
she who is born and dies each month,
tugging the waters into rise and fall,
pulling at the seed’s dark heart, the heart of time,
the ever falling and unfolding flower.