Ode to Foster

walk the spiral

up out of the pavement

Into your reflection, into

transparency, into the space

where flat planes are curves

and you are transposed

as you go higher into a thought

of flying, joining the game

of brilliance and scattering

where fragments of poems,

words, names fall like glory

into the lightwells until

St Mary Axe is brimming

.....................................................

This is a poem by Jo Shapcott that I came across thanks to London Underground's ever enjoyable Poems On The Underground program.