Tag: LondonPoem

RiverbankThe gate opens with a yawn,undisturbed, yet, by foghornsor the fixings of lovers’ locks.The sounds of muddy spades are yet to permeate the space betweenthe river and the rock, wherea seagull stands and contemplates St Pauls.What can we see—a Y-shaped stick,plenty of bricks,something which looks like a key.Are you a lifeboat, Sarah Lee?Have you ever…