For Vivi Fogel
Observed from my Highgate windows,
my neighbours seem slight and burdened.
They scurry about their purpose
oblivious to my gaze.
* * *
One had the means to raise
the lightest colonnades
rendered in rhyming couplets
in praise of the Goddess Eve.
Instead, he chose to build
a crazy kitchen extension
to please his wife, who rightly
dumped him and kept the kitchen.
Dazed and grieving, our man
returns to his vocation...
delighting in the grace
and splendour of the Goddess.
* * *
My neighbours’ labours and tensions
are brazen, mighty matters.
Our mortgage and pension schemes
reshape the gape of eternity.
Our fantasies are fateful,
igniting the blaze of our souls,
repeated and enacted
through seven generations.
And even our bedroom clocks
and even our children’s playthings
suspend their lazy chatter,
attending our nightly coupling.
If you have any comments on this poem, Thomas Land would be pleased to hear from you.