I found God in Vermillion House
a glittering brutalist council tower
totemic on the horizon

He was loitering in the stairwell
and stank of piss and PineFresh
glittering with tin

the tinkling sound of empties
strung out in the morning breeze
forewarned of his divine and glittering presence

and decorated these concrete angles
with infinite glittering space-time
and celebration cake on lace

the glittering tinkling filling my head
with clear water and ice;
my thirst was quenched.

Today is a new day and the longest
of the year
standing on the balcony fifty-two floors up
humming the glittering sun in

hands empty, the photographs of home dropped in dry Libyan cells

just the glittering of fire sparks
everywhere I look

igniting paper in old books
which tell of milk and glittering honey for those chosen again and again

extolling what makes one life grievable and another’s not-
when the glittering truth unravels beyond sea-burial

and in the surviving speeches
of primary school teachers
hanging in mildewed classrooms
like small glittering triumphs

and in the making of tea in battered
glittering pots from Baghdad
to warm the elderly neighbour from Broadstairs

and in the pile of glittering cellophane -wrapped flowers seen from this window

not in those subterranean glittering gold dens
of numbers and rank and numbness

not in my glittering name…
Come here, God, take a look
at this view