hierarchy of space

I hail a bus

my hand 

cupping the air sideways leans two 

confident fingers into the road

my body semaphore

I am metope 

daughter of Doric 

and because Nelson beat Bonaparte

I am pulled from the Parthenon

this dirty street it's

bank holiday blues

wet from the pockmarked rain

stuttering on the tarmac

orphaned white marble

1821

these colonnades so lonely

I hail a bus

my hand 

cupping the air sideways leans two 

confident fingers into the road

Elgin

his hungry eyes and disappearing

nose knows

Byron billows his contempt

both

Harrow boys

I hail a bus 
a Harrow girl

my hand 

cupping the air sideways leans two 

confident fingers into the road