Egypt & Industry: a novel novella

Ten days beyond a city sunrise.

A Ballad Here On Wapping Wharf

Upon the breeze, life’s sounds did sail; the people pottered past.

The searsome sun seethes heathaze.

“More to see! The child who eats the twisting treat; the gull who rides the unseen surf.”

Breeze breaks in laughter loosed; kuhllainkkinkcnk sothairyugoe! hahihihihihuh hyeh-uh?!

Clouds cling – fast.

Paddling swan in feathers.

The dog’s bark ricochets in waves that break ‘gainst seagull’s calling.

Day-drinker ponders; rises; leaves the poem.

The cranes cry to the cov’ring cloud.

People-watching; people, watching me.

Over the water, w’thin the waves of crashing flame, I sit ‘n write.

A finely crafted lot of letters nailed into its door, the room, so full in retrospect, slept – spacious; silent.

The walls of mud-made brick that bind and shape the space they share start to compress – contracting in upon themselves; sharp shuddering.

The grain is mismatched ‘cross the breaks.