Noah lived in a clapboard shack,
on a faultline, never still.
He walked on heaving, heavy ground,
grassless, thinking of vineyards.

Noah lived in a tenement.
Day and night, the neighbours' noise
rose through the slivered hardwood,
muffled, like the sound of animals.

Noah lived on a barren plain,
jagged and slippery, of gyroscopic dunes.
He stared out a shattered seascapes,
shadowless, dreaming of shore.

Noah lived in a clapboard shack,
above a city of noise and stink.
Daily, he walked to the reailing, dreaming,
landless, alone with God.