I am twelve 

Grandfather is in heaven, 

Looking down to check  

I am always good. 

He was a policeman; 

now still active 

on God's force. 

  

I am fourteen 

watching tv 

my first State Funeral. 

Churchill is dead 

dockland cranes dip 

to mark the passage 

of the boat chugging 

his body up the Thames. 

  

I am twenty 

sprawled on the grass 

of Blackheath 

under the moon 

and above the black death 

plague victims doused in lime. 

Ship horns at Greenwich forewarn, 

another year. 

  

I am seventy 

the ice caps are melting 

Earth chokes as forests burn.

Plastic poisons the oceans 

and somehow, I have slipped 

between realities 

to an endgame 

undreamt of.