She Wanders Poem by Susan Marie Watkins

The Thames, milky jade under a gray sky;
As Big Ben chimes &
Tennyson & Browning molder
Beneath their poet's slabs in Westminster
Grass & daffodils push up green shoots
In the Tower's waterless moat &
Seven ebony ravens keep mute vigil
Over the Chapel of St. Peter Ad Vincula.

In Trafalgar Square where
Lord Nelson's column stands haughtily erect,
There are pigeons everywhere,
On my head, my hands, my outstretched arms.

In last year's yellow, too-short Easter dress,
I seek Paul in Abbey Road.
Then eat crêpes, alone
At a little café in Petticoat Lane,
Wishing I were in love
With someone...

In Stratford, I walk a narrow path
Past whimpering daffodils
Trembling in a glacial wind
That penetrates my yellow dress.
'Stupid Californian, ' Whitney laughs,
Guiding us on
Through moss-encrusted headstones
To Trinity Chapel
Where Shakespeare's bones lay moldering in the chancel.

That night, crossing the river
To the Black Swan,
I play my new harmonica
& Drink too much honey-spiced wine
& sit on Whitney's lap.
& Then he kisses me
As the clock strikes midnight,
& So I go

Walking back to my hotel,
Alone in the sharp darkness
Playing a mournful riff.
I stop on the bridge & watch the Avon flow.
A stray swan like a white shadow
Floats on its inky surface &
Yellow daffodils,
Luminous in the moonlight,
Shiver on its banks.
& I tremble with them,
Filled with a glorious fear,
On the cusp of lust.