I’d paint a mural onto
the Painted Hall of
an Old Royal Naval College

through the other side of a
Blackwall Tunnel -
of an A200 umbilical cord

Spanish chestnut trees
and the slipform core of your
wharf, Copperas Street,

a fontanelle opening again,
coarse mustard hail
on the rooftop garden,

winter-spring raclette
of a melting cannon salute,
tang of cement works

in this starry morning,
brilliant riverside
apartments clear and warm,

each floor foil blanket
wrapped, water in the creek
like hot, sweet, tea.

Julie Hogg