In the early hours I looked out my window,
the ink black sea, the sky crowded with stars.
The glow of the Mother Ship was coming through
the harbour mouth.
I knew it because for seven nights the sound like
trucks had filled my ears. Neighbours have said
they were for the slurry, exposed by the extreme low
spring tide but I knew it was a gathering of specimens,
of humans, chosen to be taken and observed.
The Mother Ship was to fetch them all.
I left my window. I would have peace now.