Iron Lily

A barrow boy’s spit from The Savoy,
I found her on Carting Lane.

A tall lean Victorian,
last high priestess of Cloacina,

Iron Lily she is named.
Beneath her

the vast tunnelled temple
she serves,

finds her feed of stink.
Tireless torchbearer

burning night and day,
her white light

bright
with an entire city’s offering.