Wednesday 4 October 2017

1 New Poem

Seine Water

The ambulance siren tin-whistles
through hanging leaves, stirring
air like clipper ships darting
in grace from canal point
and matching, in true form,
carvers’ chisels on pillars on
century.

When darkness comes and on go
the hawker lights, bouncer men’s
jackets and faux-American pop,
halogen lamps as fireflies on
wave crests dance beating about
their sullen wings as wash
on mossy brick.

It is why everyone comes here:
the picture-posers on bank,
booksellers with green wood cases,
wares-men with Taiwan wires and
cheap plastic on dusting tarps,
all like the rhythm of
stopped city buses.

All came to overpay for beer,
to find their hearts and fountain pens,
in the last lapping of currents.

No comments:

Post a Comment