It was enough – a glance backward
As you, the figure of my dreams
(And in my dreams)
formed still more form
in its place.
Yes, you walked as first we shaped ourselves
In gardens of Eden
(Before their loss.)
Triumphant even –
Your body figured
In light and space
And all the street was yours
Because of this.
Yet by the time I thought liking mutual
You had gone to ‘office militant’
To be alone again.
Enter via a dark tunnel
the wild furnace
of one on top of another –
in a second each replaces another
by tumbling down of numbers
in towers,
of electronic thunder
flashing signals
to each ‘another’
as rivals in battle
between
merger and take-over;
storms
high up over London
pitching formulas
into the morning rush hour
and
in
a
trance
bet against themselves
all spontaneous and specialist
buying
while falling
a long way and back again
singing to themselves “amen”
(even amidst the raging storm)
in
the
friction of numbers
every aspect of their life living
looks down on us, muted
spewed forth from heated tunnel –
each step a march concentrated
and without thinking
in a glass eye of blind tempo,
tools ready, eyes ahead,
weather-beaten,
we hold the weight of one ton on our backs
backing them
Now appearing surrounded by churches
Without their priests or guilds,
Our screens stand watching themselves ‘not for daybreak’
But for payment.
Distracted, the old dealer’s view is fixed
On spires and steeples,
Dominated by further cluster and all prominent –
Telling us of Tokyo,
The Footsie or Paris holding –
For new marriage to begin.
Now silenced not by outcry
But each silence matched by itself,
We shall rule every Exchange by Christmas
Quietly but well.