Fog lifts from the harbor, dawn goes down today,
an agent crests the shadows of a nearby alleyway.
Piles of broken bricks, sign posts on the path,
Every moment points toward the aftermath
Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town,
hopeless urchins from the city gather around.
Spies from imperial China wash in with the tide,
every battle heads toward surrender on both sides.
And I am coming home to you with my own blood in my mouth.
And I am coming home to you if it’s the last thing that I do
Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills,
chalk marks show up on a few high windowsills,
and a rabbit gives up somewhere and a dozen hawks descend..
Every moment leads toward its own sad end
Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they’re gone,
sailors with no captains watch awhile and then move on.
And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction;
all roads lead toward the same blocked intersection.
I am coming home to you with my own blood in my mouth.
And I am coming home to you if it’s the last thing that I do.