So many clocks

So many clocks

White-faced

Time-pieces

Staring into space

Pointing out each minute difference.

Big Ben carries a punch

But Greenwich carries the weight

One on each side,

Bordering the river

Squeezing the life out of every last moment

In a roiling tidal flow

Forming an undercurrent

At Westminster.

It is said that you can fish there now

Wade in muddy waters

Full of flatheads and bloaters,

Jumping

Is reserved for further upstream.

When did flat-bottomed lighters stop their trafficking

Yellow lanterns marking time

In the burning of a candle.

There is a sandy beach at low tide

Red-faced

People have been spotted

Sunbathing on deckchairs

In a golden triangle

By the Tate Modern

Creating an impression

As abstract as the notion

Of a riverside wall

To keep the channel at bay.

An idea floated as deep-dive thinking,

Anything to prevent

The old smoke from sinking

And the fire going out of the market,

It is the only thing keeping

The rusty empire line afloat