When The Signal Comes

The sand mourns night
when the signal comes
and the bugs crawl away
to be free again.

When the signal comes
the world turns in its path
as though against
recognising its power.

When the signal comes
the walls will lift
and the dams will break
their waters on our knees.

When the signal comes
the hard ground will eat
each step in a never-ending
brawl of teeth.

When the signal comes
we down tools and leave
when the magic is falling
lifeless from each open shirt-sleeve.