Zone 4

Standing at the point
Where the buses don’t just stop
But finish,
Where their destinations of
Nowhere somewheres
Roll round on displays
Like commandments on
Scrolls of silk,

I try to interpret
Meaning in the sounds of
Swallowed towns,
Like Debden, Sidcup and Ponders End,
Mouth melodies to
Places never mentioned in song,
Where empty, arching
Concrete shelters have been
Waiting since World War II
For their moment, their onslaught,
The time when the city arrives.