London Calling:
No delight in the community
This is an airport, an international airport
One surveils is surveiled
A list of fragments is inappropriate
The clatter of feet is what one gets
Who may or may not carry the bomb, the End-Bomb
I cannot smile even though you arrive
Anxiety splayed as a broken fortune cookie
The parking lot is one dollar for each twelve minutes
A mother discovers and hugs her adult daughter
A brother and sister clap their hands to "Tic, Tac, Toe"
Each argues over the way it goes:
I am not alone nor plural
She is the many among the isolate
No one knows the way London will purge itself
The empty arcade monitor deserves a new release
Each face a potential scaffold into which one reflects
Hair lifted, tied, bound, a form of topiary
"Hip Hop Don't Stop" a black girl's T-Shirt
Green lace, dark jacket, she arrives
Gratefully.
|