griefmaps like elephant tongues

it’s the hot pipes
coasting down the hills
like rooftop Schneider
waiting again to smell
the escaping fires
from the astray dorms

disrupted from shadow-
affairs, like a griefmap,
and trucks dragging homes
off their foundations, horned
Tursdale garden shadows,
Schneider passes from dawn
electric half-hall mines, moving
over the griefmap, the rain
here and on elephant tongues