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Where alleyways are a rite-of-passage
Graffiti tags are cave drawings
And abandoned mansions
A place of ritual
Angels are anatomised
In the everyday mundane:
A sunbeam wearing a black hoodie.
(Carved in park bench tables).
The lull of the mother
Of a-hundred twitchy-eyed poets.
(Reappeared in foggy
Bus window panes).
A talon talisman found
From a hobbling pigeon.
(Scratched on council bricks).
The unasked wisdom of the man
With no teeth at the local pub.
(Presaged in white paint spills).
A blessing trapped in an oil slick.
For...
For...
For...
For...
Part ode and part elegy
We 'scend through
The scales of morality
And hallow northern
Working-class providenc
