St Paul’s Cathedral

At times I lie here
under quilted half sleep
I think of your cobbled madness
tucked into alleyways of rogue tourists

At times
the lull of a metro worm here
reminds me of sooted nostrils there

Of gaps to mind
Of the blackness of my heart rolling up
an escalator rail to emerge in a volcano
of never expected English evanescence

The damp morning quiet
Birdsong in birth
The memory of so much
too hard to contain in one heart

Of yearning and learning
of love
of role-playing and pre-something
and post-everything

Oh old crone with your crystal glass in
expansive greens
And the riot of religion, language and flower

Spires wedged deep in ever cloudy skies
The smell of you seeping from my pores each day
Each day I am reminded of you
Each day away from you
the longing to keep being half-asleep
increases

Dubai, 20th Sep 2018
For my grandmother on her birthday
(after Alex’s St. Paul’s at night)