catching the sun, your metal skin
has the angular thrust of a shark’s fin
poets should celebrate your glories.
Rising on stilts above an agora
your pleasing palette of orange and green
seems to reconfigure the street scene –
you are a temple to Athena.
As if this were ancient Alexandria
you are home to a million stories
a towering knowledge repository.
You are a magnet, a cynosure.
Dressed in your coat of verdigris
you impress, you are Peckham library.