This map is anybody’s, unowned for all,
made concrete by some as law with which to wage and carve
paths but all roads lead back to the first beach. All plumbing
leaks, through cracks in the cloud and the pavement.
Taste the rain with one foot in the waves, liminal
and rich in fear – fossilised in salt water. An old city
dressed with many doors and windows, above which carvings read
‘Hear lies the good, the bad, and a beautiful truth. Hear lies.’