The ravens are seen cawing lullabies.
To their chicks sleeping on the telephone lines.
And the bats in alleys hiding from neon signs.
Hidden beside the canals and outcasts homes.
Are the places where street mongrels roam.
Feed their young with the scraps from the street.
Play and run the tarmac searching for food to eat.
Hidden on the ageing Odeon's ballustrade.
Is the vine of slowly spiralling night shade.
Filling the street with a strange perfume.
Of warmth rather than the factories toxic plume.
Hidden between the shore the spray and tide.
The red scavenger crab scoures rocks and hides.
From the monitor lizard that basks from time to time.
And fishing gulls who lay mollusks on the railway line.
Hidden inside cold concrete metal frames.
Are broken mangled souls that have been maimed.
By themselves others and time passing by.
Hidden between the concrete and the sky.
