New year poem

Friday, January 15, 2021

            Tottenham Hale

If I were to start
again, I’d start

at the end of the long,
unbending street.

The Turkish restaurant
by Christ’s Pieces.

King’s Cross.
Or the bus as it leeches

my heart, so sick a thing
it almost longs for woe.

You see—less changed
than I ought to be.

If you knew, you’d laugh
with the rest of us.

What, O God, ensures
my song?

Grace, my love. Years
since I’ve touched it.

Friday, January 15, 2021