the trout stream
remember with me the trout stream
that came down from heol las
fishing with peter and phillip
grass-banked on a dampening arse
running beneath grandpa’s churchyard
where he rests in llansamlet church
trolling a lobworm under the bridge
from an upstream hidden perch
on down behind the slaughterhouse
that sits way back off the neath-bound road
busying itself to morriston tabernacle
bible dry as a dusty toad
then tight flumed duck-weeded
and running alive with trout
the colour of that rusty gasometer
with no trespassing inside or out
down and dying behind the vale works
heavy metal grey and much polluted
it slimes into a slag sinter culvert
dying of dirt and effluent diluted
sad the a walk home is viewing
its dash into the tawe at spate
and from the excitement of trout steam fishing
we spit at industry’s gate
but all in all it’s been a good day
as walks up the stream often are
fish in my bag for supper
happiness safe in the jar
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