Feral Camden you swallowed my river,
And grisly, vomited body parts onto pavements.
And we wound cycle wheels by small ponds.
Summer left it green, algae eating Tesco bags,
By Winter you lost your edge, misty
Concrete covered by fall and dark brown leaves.
Now three men tattooed row eastwards,
Like modern magi smoking skunk.
The found craft lurches and bobs, half-sunk
In the static water and, strangely, I think of my Fleet far below.