the beginning

for the young woman who was born in Somerset

who moved to New York who lives in London

and here I am surrounded by the echo of running cloth,

working alone in a room which is what I do all the time

and she’s intriguing and futuristic and panoramic

and I'll toss into the ring, exotic.. and she sings like a bird

and that’s the heart of her journey.

my pain-in-the-ass phone warns me of updates with a ping

but this time there is no ping. I’m older than the fucking ping.

older than the young woman who lived on the stage,

the stage she wears like a cape through the props of her early life

learning on the march the crucial measurements of what to do for love.

so this is a silent knock at her door from a poem-writer in the city

of granite and she’s living her life anew in the city of London.