I Saw Your Name Poem by Marcus Smith Poetry

spelled with stones on the slope of a teenager's hill,
tagged along rainy highway sound barriers,
scrawled on an overpass of the M something,
stenciled in Arial across the side of a moving van,
postered and tattered on plywood walls tilting
and shaking in wind the building site summoned.
I saw your name on the door of my dented car,
on my front door, in my mail and messages.
in the eyes of cameras and jumbo-mumbo screens
calling for attention and love I saw your name.
You were canvasing every street, contemplating
a blue-plaqued alley where you lived as no one.
Up below skyscrapers, along the Embankment
when unoccupied night people do their crawl,
I saw you stabbing your stubby brushes, marking
the red and black indelible, hissing the sprays.
a resurrected biplane, groaning mechanical mantras,
trailed smoke, writes a white sweeping script.

The Rialto