scolded
child
(for Keri Glastonbury)
high on something else again called
reprobate sort me out before I
choose the
fata morgana
go get the dictionary
off the shelf think about the dust piling from the industry still
here not the remnants people think that when BHP ended when
the steel label stopped we
forsook that
all the sheds slammed down the
roller doors they did not
there is a film it floats down daily coats
the
table coats the porch I wipe it away
a fly without a buzz
we still have this uneasy ex-husband
sitting in the park across the road
drinking from his steelworks bottle
despite our new bookcase
our new tech-works
the go ahead get ahead dickhead lives we gaze at
in the brochures of our heads
sort me out for saying it
scold me like the child
in my child city
waiting for the grown ups to teach me how
life is done
I drive past the muster point I ask why
is it fenced off
we used to love walking
there used
to love that tribute
all that
century of industry
gone now
compacted into sculpture
entailed
aloof forlorn
Very nice, I can see a black and white image of abandoned factories against the grey sky
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