i can see it now

when the roads stiffen on descent

to overlook swathes

of apparently empty planet
the air here is sharply breathed,

where the city skyline changes shape & colour

to pose new questions—

                    in the absence of weather

                    whatever else is moving

                    must know the same density
even the scalloped ground of the pioneer cemetery

unsighted, hot & sedate,

is seductive at this hour, at this time of year—

                    innocence is almost recovered

                    in what’s near being strange
this is resisting home.

like a confession, patterns

of faultless, shared darkness

float over from the mid-Tasman

& crawl after us down hairpins,

entangled in the Precambrian

                    & the post-electric
it makes thinking uncomfortable—

so it’s back to where people are

                    exactly as we left them