May 28, 2020
Shard | Ella Duffy
It was late when you called to say you were on Southwark Bridge,
waving beneath a lamppost. Third from the left.
So I stood at the window, fifty floors up, pinned you
with the binoculars which came with the room
then flashed the bathroom light; morse code.
Around you, trains eased through boroughs on wishbone tracks;
lanterns of Londoners headed for home.
You danced on the road, blowing kisses, giddy with seeing me,
your daughter, blinking my small light down on the city;
the space between us swollen and homesick, a mile long.
Chosen by Carol Anne Duffy as one of her Poems to get us through
