Postcard from Troy

In this metropolis / death wears a sheep skin // along the freeways / the traffic never stops // beneath the side street waterfall / three coffins full // baa baa black sheep // grass grows in the taxis // who can reverse / the hour glass of gravel? // to pin down / the wall to wall carpet / wood anemones are hammered in // yes sir yes sir / the gate is shut. // only enough to wrap / dead bunting in.