Hoarding for beginners

By The Old Docks, Near Tower Bridge, London

Avoid the cliché newspapers

stacked like the memories

of old lovers, walls of flour bags

prized by roaches and cereal

box exhibits valued by rat collectors.

Go for skulls of old telephones,

jars of pickled Barbie heads

or trays of Victorian peonies

floating like jellyfish. Personally,

I'd hoard hearts: squishy pomegranates

prone to breaking down, not 

being used correctly and, more often

than not, in need of repair.

Here, cobblestones carry ghosts:

stevedores unloading peppercorns

light as shot, oily teak, mahogany

bright as the paraffin lamps,

mounds of exotic fruits, Japanese

ceramics delicate as breath,

metals from the New World,

and even a plethora of animals

to be articulated and shown off

in velvet ruffled theatres and sideshows.

Listen carefully in the quiet hour

and you might hear an old galleon

trapped in the silence like a cliché 

ship in a bottle. New skyscrapers

and blocks of flats might emerge,

but the old docks still run deep,

like hidden tradewinds unexpectedly

carrying your feet to the surprising, 

the fortuitous.