Clouds peek, offer comfort
to our greygrit estate,
drowning
ice cream vans, pulled away
toothless children asked for flake’s
holding needles laced, words unkind
happy faces drop like tears
whilst wrinkled men
watch on, a blank
bygone love lost
shuffling in cigarette contempt
windows racked side by side
doors closed-in, the stumble of stray cats,
creeping
plain washing swills, cold wind whistles
above lonesome swings, chained
a playground defeated, silenced
of voices, of values
statements of race
faceless threats
scrawled loosely
in death-black, over unused water fountains
scruffy national flags
aimlessly strewn in fitful promise
dusty eyes, once raised to vibrant symbols
like fists invisible
are meeting concrete,
today
a mother padlocks visions,
resting disappointed head, dizzy
against cracked floorboards
dreaming herself away
violin strings crackling
from the famished record player
what’s the word for hope?
begs baby, rattle astrewn,
across a colourless cot
but the mother, has sunk
A poem with so much strength and pain at the same time, just as life is.