Cold

 

 

A girl is eating sushi as she checks her phone

A man lies on his back - his shoes are on - his shirt undone

His chest is bare to catch the sultry morning sun

A dozen others lounge around for this is coming up to lunchtime in a London square

And soon there’ll be a thousand from the offices

Taking off their clothes and eating sandwiches

 

Twelve o’clock - it’s noon

A plane tree with the flaking bark

The shadow of the tree falls on the ground

And stretches out the whole diagonal to the farthest corner of the park . Too long .

It’s reach is five , six times its height at least and this is wrong

At noon , a sea of bathing flesh . Thin shadows clutch

with bony fingers , this hot winters day

 

A G  27 Feb 2019

 

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