1 New Poem

Three Pence

Copper coin shimmer lines speckle-spatter

along well-wishers banks beneath

Islington's club gig smoke for the

name of some 90s indie band,

none could exactly remember,

none could quite forget.

I glow, untrammeled, haloing

Primark dress shirts in black light,

but for shock of uncertain divisions

and

the lack I am of figures assured,

neither Chancellor nor another great

figure a state one day sets in bronze.

For promises of rock & roll America,

places wild of youth, ease, never did

a single stroke for cold running hands

and

answered what I'd give for touch:

oceanic deliverance, partial to your

frame, shaking, waiting maiden memorial fantasy,

as you tame-keeper wilderness of telescopic time.

Remind

what once there was to gain,

now lost for want of a three penny nail.