On The Waterfront
I watched rain trickle water into folds,
Ripple, then diverge.
Only an armoury
Would posit murder by artistry.
Spears like long knives. Guns in cases
Ogled over by blonde four-year olds.
My lager eases to a yeasty full-stop.
A Nazi lights up for a smoke.
Racing-green Swastika -
The prison inked on his thumb.
As a Coca Cola can litters
(animate in the freehold bluster)
He tail a Seagulls stare.
The sky’s steely gallery.
Yet smoke beyond weaponry. Sterile, clean.