Autumn in the City (One Hundred Years)
The air is thick with the burning islands.
I wake in the morning to a dry throat.
Spring in the City (Year Ten)
Look at him looking at her. He
watches her fingers, deftly tucking back
Winter in the City (Year One)
All is returned to dust.
Every breath is taken back by a jealous
Summer in the City (Day One)
You must have returned, must be
living, even now, within the city walls,