Tuesday, 10 November 2009

Your Beauty Is Built Into This City

I could not pick you out from this city’s beauty.
From its galleries, its history and its churches.
I could not tell you apart from the classicism
Bold, triumphant and glorious.

I could not tell you apart from the sandstone
From morning’s knife-like light
I could not pick you out from the rush
From the symphonies of money, drama and art.

I could not tell you apart from these autumn streets
From pavements paved in flaming leaves.
I could not tell you apart from the winds
Whose moisture cleans your reddened face.

I could not tell you apart from the laughter
From the traffic and its clockwork thunder
I could not tell you apart from the winter
Alive and lit with a fiery theatre.

I could not pick you apart from the ghosts
And the echoes of their whispers.
Your are up there with the angry sun
As it burns out in a desperate furnace.

Your beauty is built into this city.
And so, for me, is your memory.

1 comment:

  1. Nice one Jack! Glad you're back at the poetry.

    ReplyDelete