Bridge of the Eastern Gate over a canal in Delft (Netherlands)

If light falls here, it's under a sky

of lead, false glow, late in the day.
Wish I could take the city, set myself up
in the stone circle in the marketplace, and drink
the blooded shadow of town hall
Get your head examined. I pound on the walls;
they go up in dust like ash in a stove in the morning,
as if I exist. Out of the canals rises
a wall of caustic water. Here's where it was,
here's where I sighed for the open polder and fell against
an icy structure. Here's where you trade the trip
for the tight home corner.

Poem by Anna Enquist about Delft