South Bank again

The river, undulating silk

brushed from the brow

of St Paul’s.


A half moon

hangs below Venus;

it’s cold, so cold,


the wind turreting

concrete corners.


I should get out more

stand away from myself

watch life form in pockets


the similarities there in the

pivot of the planets.


No water,

it seems we are parched;


you live above the rolling tide

we watch for thunder.


Tonight I want to

lie down on the swell

let it engulf me.


No further than this,

wait for an answer

where no answer lies ,


in the cold undulating

swell of a winter river

and call for you


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