Poetry by Charles G Lauder
The moment was a colossus we built up to,
at first with wheelbarrows of sand
to mix the mortar, simple bamboo scaffolding,
then, as tension mounted, cranes to swing
sun-burnt beams into place.
When you look back at the terrace houses,
Ms Malone setting off for work,
Mr Mangera opening his shop,
it blocks the view: all you see are the builders.
Each bolt torqued floated over the city,
like a bullet out of a gun.
From my window I wondered
if today would be the day. I could not