in response to jon’s photograph of port talbot
the flyover
after having flown over
slips
the houses pray
at the way
the smoking toad
has curved around the fetlocks
of the furnaces load
in a brutalist sameness
all eyes turn towards tomorrow
for in today’s shutting down
of the furnaces
blast
the flyover has died
for under it all is dead
a blast from the past moves the wrappers
of the chocolates of yesterday’s if
there is a glowering in the hillsides
there is a glowering in the dales
better if you moved away form wales to england
said the rhonchi and the rales
smelt and the world smelts with you
cough and you cough alone
molten has moulted
the horse has bolted
the stable door is locked
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