village of the damned boys
the village of dark corners,
of boys around each other down
the back again ways, to and from and
down the wicked roads of every
naughtiness that dared be dared.
the devil they took as they took each other
further in their wide eyes tripping the tomorrow
of nostradamus dimensions. we did
was their run-away motto, on the unsure-footed
slag stone roads, black as a man’s phlegm
in the metal works, or on the railway tracks
that the boys plundered, until they settled as
villagers themselves; in that cottaging of dark
and slowly dying minds;
but tonight they are full in being
where they should be not,
but bloody well are!
run ... run ...