three days

Three days
below his monument
the first day sat beside sifting trams
the bench flush with fake kisses 
because she had to ask what it was
I said nothing
his concrete would speak for me
***
Arthur sung for the grass but not water
the water was too patient without the wind
beneath parliament green
so we laughed instead
and I wished
that this lie I lit
could kindle still tomorrow
***
Our dance like someone else
and she was a flow of swirling red curls
swallowed deep in vodka
as I left this dreaming
until she’d long walked away