Gentlemen
by Jeremy Dixon
seventeen urinals
in a row underground
you’re counting them twice
and a lad notices
whistles softly
through this gift
to Cardiff men since
Eighteen ninety-eight
glass bricks above
dropping light
marble wings to obscure
each shuffling space
the floor is damp
slippery
you’re always following
someone’s shining footprints
Poem submitted as part of the Places of Poetry project, find out more here.