At eight o’clock
the sea breathes its brown stink
all over the town;
dead sardines, hot seaweed, salt and sewage.
As the sun rises
fish scales glitter in the breeze
and the white apartment blocks
become holy.
Up Avenue Tomas Cabriera
the cranes clank into action,
biting into rusty metal
with corrugated teeth,
roaring, thrashing and retarded,
in the bones of naked buildings.