Then there were
Then there were the cooling towers,
wooden waisted, corseted to the sky-
blue in their steamy contusions.
They are still there, next to the
unused railway arches that lead
to the unused cooling ponds.
The works the stuff of long memories
for the kids who dared their parent’s
admonishment that where the ghosts be
dammed and dangerous, tread you not!
There, where the grass snakes find
entrapment after Lucifer’s fall into
the concrete needled hall of
water weed and frazzled frogs.
Yes, we ran the nerves of dusk
and the clattering corrugated sheets
of youthful devil may care, running
faster and, and, faster until
the breath of bravado stopped
us short of losing face and
the wild laughs returned home
to roost on heaving shoulders.
How the reeds breathed the wild wind on the
wings on heels below dirty knees dried with the
blood of snivelled tear smears and
the wince of valour that is the badge of boys
on the run every which way they dare.
This is the grime under my fingernails, even
as my second childhood runs down those
self same shivers on the road to my bed,
and the sleep of righteous indignation at a
curse broken short by the call to alms.
