In the apple market

your south London twang

accompanies the many undulations

of time.

Your wild androgyny

mirroring the mirror

of yourself

skimming off the water

of childhood,

like a shaking dog.

You lit up, spot-lighted,

an iridescence of sound

Ziggy!

Your songs were the water

I needed;

Your terse verse

spread underground

watering imaginations

breeding rainbows

over Baker Street during the long hot summer of 1976.

We thought it would never end

but you knew better

ashes to ashes

dust to dust

before the silver cord was broken

before the golden bowl was crushed.