by Imogen Fahey
Polyphony, Volume 2, Issue 1
First published April 2020, Manchester
post-war high rises and radburn
plots where neighbours share
a grass verge and values, attend
anglican services in the
open air.
ladies in cloche hats and
dears in pac-a-macs meet
at the shopping centre,
“choose shoefayre shoes!”
and run for the 97 bus home.
this overspill
town, this reduced life
sentence, this nuclear waste
land fit for the nuclear family.
it’s where you got your tiger
feet, ate quiche lorraine and hid
your soft cell records.
this council-forgotten dump is where
your heart began to pump claret
and your veins turned blue,
where you knocked your
two front teeth out, where
rubbish melted in the streets and
sugar could not be bought. ee-arr,
bab. gwarn and mek sommert
of yourself.