Smugglers:

Mist drifts to cover the moon

It rises off the stagnant waters

That stinks of sewage

It blinds the air and turns men's hearts clouded

An engine throbs, a steady beat that struggles out

Pushing it through the turgid air

Dark figures swim into focus through the fog

Their faces leering, with their gap-toothed grins

A mangy mog makes a desperate dash

Through the darkness

Its keen yellow eyes; a search-light beam

Moaning and yowling it scampers away

Hiding in mouldy straw with a terrified mouse

Crates are stacked along the quay

Their foreboding forms defined in the gloom

Harbingers of dark deeds that are done in the

Night and forgotten by morning