On the Spinnaker Tower

Emerging onto
the viewing platform
the world tilts
while spinnakered dinghies
sew their courses below.
My hometown
lurches at my feet.

I am inside the tinted eye of a fly.
A Perspex prison
Secured with titan-sized meccano.

A queer pelvic voltage
dissolves my core,
alloying life
with the terror of death.

Imagination
unmans
on this floor
buoyed on concrete,
whose feet are planted
a hundred metres too far away
to believe in.

A seagull
passes level with my knees,
yawing casually
on air currents,
outraging
the quaint gyroscope
of my earthbound propriety.

Immobile,
I stagger.