See those floating Bowery slums
Six hundred heartbeats heavy
Vessels of souls
Human ballast to meek to mutiny
Prayers from stern to bow
To a God effigy figure head that went under the water at the burning shore
and never came back up for air
Its tender frame buckles and the iron screams
Through purgatorial waters book ended by land and wealth
As their bodies they are cut loose from those coffin ships
And their myriad identities are one at the bottom of the rain.
photographs float like temporal gravestones in the water and are bleached ghostlike by the Mediterranean sun
And then all is silence and calm and fishing
But I say I say I say!
What is this coming up the Thames estuary in the heart of darkness?
Entire families cling to giant lantern lit Portobello mushrooms
An Armada of children in huge Clarice Cliff cups and saucers are spinning down river
Hundreds of Ladies dance on enormous up turned beer bellies of sleeping men
Young boys row frantically in gigantic Yorkshire puddings
JMW Turner is in a crow’s nest and is going to capture it all
They were sold a dream that England was only a day away
And it is
From us all
This great divide that split the atom
Now must break its bread.