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:
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!
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