When Pindar’s town was burnt by Alexander
the poet’s heirs were all left safe indoors.
Entrepreneurs thought St. Mark’s could be grander
and gutted Wystan’s house to add more floors.
Grand, smoky parties, Flagstad in hi-fi,
a car assigned to drive Miss Moore back home-
it might as well have happened in Shanghai;
they’ve taken down the marker and the poem.
The bar survived next door where he would go
unbathed and rumpled with the Times’ crossword,
and at that idle toil he would know
the pity in the prattle overheard.
The pity of this house-his missing name.
The landlords and the city are to blame.
— George Green