it begins at the foot of the last three steps

Mill turned waters

At edges of concrete cliffs

Where our petals found their making 

Mother made reckless

With their heavy babies

Tears hot

Seared pasts forged

Tin or gold plated futures 

Wrought

Our children’s soggy foundations 

Clapped a rhythm 

Of train bells tolls 

Passing by case an expanded

Nature failed to hold still