The Thames At Mortlake
By Ben Jonson
if only for ten minutes
after the mass feeding of schoolchildren
after the careful inanity of the staff
at low tide
this was the place
for calm, for order of a kind
the relief of walking there
and the smell was acceptable
perhaps even preferable
the objects to be
seen
found
principally (I have it still)
a short fat halfpound brass bolt and nut
virgin, unscrewed
other things less permanent
sodden grey bones
scratched glass, rubbed brick, rusted gatebutts
once a chaffinch eggshell
every conceivable other
but mainly dirty shingle
silt
prairies of malachite slime
though was the important thing
that I met no one else there?