A moment of quiet contentment, fading
into sleep: a memory in that – recalled
partially at least while the world
and its words shift out, make space
for the barely registered breath
and its sudden insistence,
distant footsteps and, further still,
the screech, the squeak of a tram.
In the light from an uncurtained window,
everything else is no more than a rumour.
The silent hands move. Outside,
avenues spread like an arterial system,
a map of
possibilities which
