it rumbled here at four a.m.,
an aftershock; i felt nothing,
but the dog upstairs barked and barked,
sensed something below the threshold
of my feeble cognizance
it’s been days without news radio;
i flipped the switch; a flippant bitch
went on and on of politicians
mired in local crises, squandering
the moment with emergencies
our kitchen overlooks a church
(you’d expect it the other way around)
where lunchtime draws a line
for soup, nods hello and cigarettes,
waiting for the doors to open
across the harbour the empress serves
high tea, scones and fairy cakes,
while glancing sideways, the legislature
and straight ahead, skimming water,
seaplanes fly in and out
it rumbled here at four a.m.
and one day this island may sink below
a boiling sea, or be thrust up above
the himalayas, but not today
today we take our lunch
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