In Trafalgar Square

Standing like Nelson in Trafalgar Square
I and the cold night shared with the wind swinging spray
the voice of lions and fountains in disorder.
A brilliant massive beauty in the calm stone
and bits of searchlight in the water’s hair
clawed out and roared to the sky the ruin and birth
of people, and of patterns, of falling stones.
Light screamed and burst in the chrysanthemum water.
And was the grief of separate people there?
I saw a city in the stone and water,
and as the wind shook time and women round me
I did not care.