Today's London

Join a group of like-minded people. In those London squares
Between Gower Street and High Holburn.
Recite poetry, read prose, opt out of society.
You don't need government, family, or money.
(Daddy will send you an allowance, Katherine).

This is the Roaring Twenties,
We are clever, original, daring.
We write books that break the rules of
Grammar: punctuation.

[We use square brackets to announce the
death of our heroine.]

This is the age of sexual liberation;
Forget the Sixties, we knew better.
Heterosexual, homosexual (Lytton, you didn't);
Bisexual (Vanessa, we know you did;
Metrosexual? Yes, that as well.
Before Bowie, before Beckham.
We were beautiful, diseased, tragic,
Wasteful, ridiculous.

(Katherine, chlamydia, consumption.
Virginia, pocketing rocks, brave stupidity.
David coveting Angelica, only a baby.
Roger, so much personal tragedy:
Helen's mental health;
Josette's suicide;
Then you fell,
In your home,
And died.)

Don't belittle us. History will judge us.
Wait until we've all passed away,
Then assess our legacy.

We broke through England's heavy Victorian mould:
Fresh air blowing away smog;
Economics with a human face;
Love and passion transcending gender;
Ecstasy without shame.
Decorative art, beyond the canvas.
Stream of conscious.

Bloomsbury's London?
Today's London.