Among our fevered expectations
there is no time for interruption,
when the meetings of strangers
breaks forth into praises.
City, your men who tread grit-streets
are fugitives from combustible places,
trapped in summer climes, with unthawed faces
that no longer seek the dawn’s arising,
who dwell in awkward hesitations,
by the measures of distance
from sheltered places
abandoned in the wasted siege
that shore no longer seen.