New Day, London

Some days, other cities
materialise out of the stuff of London's morning.
Kraków, with its fine stone flutes and flowers;
fair Dubrovnik.

Odd, then, to wake
in a city at war with itself
a chosen conflict,
a civil war, of road rage.

Each day its participants rise
marshalled from their beds
alarm calls
echoing a still more ancient summons.

Instead of pulling on the boots of battle,
they lock themselves in body vehicles.
Foot down, race lights, driver after driver
leads the charge.
While all around them whirls
the largely unseen enemy

- the gas.

© Sally Crawford, 1998