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A steel foot planted in Manhattan
         with cables that touched
the feet of the stars
         a vehicle and a machine
a radio voice
         amid the thrum of aviation
a steel paw
         built of earth bone
and Rosendale cement
         a choir of strings
plucked in the night

Adjusting the collar of his shirt
         in 1925 Mayakovsky sauntered
across the bridge
         composing as he went
his poem
         syllable by syllable
longing for the catastrophe
         of his personality
to seem interesting
         and beautiful and modern again
and through the eventual
         dust of destruction
he recognised the structure’s
         immortality
the rattling of trains
         the hardship and height
of the stifling city
         and Frank O’Hara
would have lived forever
         had he not died

John Lyons

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