Brutus, Dennis: Nightsong: City

Sleep well, my love, sleep well:
the harbour lights glaze over restless docks,
police cars cockroach through the tunnel streets;

from the shanties creaking iron-sheets
violence like a bug-infested rag is tossed
and fear is imminent as sound in the wind-swung bell;

the long day’s anger pants from sand and rocks;
but for this breathing night at last;
my land, my love, sleep well.