Collage – first draft

Summerlight flicks, the edges of London,

Sparks on glass-blades, city spires,

Smithereens of past, shards of future,

Gilt crust, glamourdusk , quick flash-fires.

Greenwich, we say. Thick in the waterbeds,

Maidenhair sinewaves, mechanized wash;

Old man river rolling shingle on a blue tongue,

Popping candy, lost slang, memories, tosh.

The pub we sit in, burnished planking,

Orchestrated mismatch, pristine scuff;

Raise a glass to owning it, scotch eggs a fiver,

Nowadays a feast is as good as enough.

Niggardly futons, in the flats of longago,

Fistholes in plaster, scrag-end of lust,

Bargain-bin fabric pinned against windows,

Rose light, clementines, fag ends, dust.

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