On the Spinnaker Tower

By Guy Walker

Emerging onto

the viewing platform

the world tilts

while spinnakered dinghies

sew their courses below.

My hometown

lurches at my feet.


I am inside the tinted eye of a fly.

A Perspex prison

Secured with titan-sized meccano.


A queer pelvic voltage

dissolves my centre,

alloying life

with the terror of death.




on this floor

buoyed on concrete,

whose feet are planted

a hundred metres too far away

to believe in.


A seagull

passes level with my knees,

yawing casually

on air currents,


the quaint gyroscope

of my earthbound propriety.



I stagger.