here a twelve-year-old boy
cycling on a grit road
on an ancient boneshaker
under August’s full-flooding moonlight.
And just the grit beneath the wheels.
In this light all is seen from its other side.
Hidden behind the clocks is every stroke of time’s
blond brother, who is an empty and deadly
hour of rest.
This boy is now completely free.
Just the Goddess and him.
And crayfish rattling in the rucksack.