‘Dartford bridge sprawls as roadkill
The sky belches black snow that tars and fills
The road that once flowed, now that stops still.
The glacial lanes tumble untethered
Cherubic curls of warm butter they slither
The toasted Thames flatbread dry river.’
Teddy wrote this while thinking about Trevor
MacDonald and Dartford. She had never
Forgotten the time when they went to Boots together.
Wind blonde baby girl to the apple swing green teen
Caught in a photoclock
Ticking between sepia prints and sun bathed transparencies that
Step time in thirty six frames.
To me she is always a sister two steps higher
One plait longer, a leather satchel, bugger Brahms and beret
An ‘Energen’ rush, pram-push further on
Umpteen classes of little Kitties and Dickens
And thousands of well tramped
Treks and paintings, poems and friends.
Seventy steps forward toward a
Superwoman set in these chalk downs of Kent
Past the burrow of Harrow
To West Peckham where her spring chicks gather and grow like daffs.