Saturday, 13 February 2010

re POEM 21

Inspired by a walking tour that I and hubby went on today...

The Smiths’ Manchester

fingerprints of murky murders
on moors in 1960s industrial decay,

bleak macabre bogey-man
surged out of Gorton soil

usurping grey-blue skies
into an eddy of raw-red scene,

against community of black tears
unsure of the lyrics of this intruder

in their midst - synonym of silent
nurseries, a final wave and ‘Bye mam’,

or fag-end squashed outside night-
club where Suffer Little Children

would play decades later
in jangly post-punk groove.

Catherine Mark

1 comment:

Chris said...

completely love the use of all of the hyphens throughout, it just adds a certain kind of feel to the piece that I think would def. be lacking otherwise. i really enjoyed this!