Slum

Slum

Its cold “up in’t north” is what they’ll tell you

Grey on grey. Things crumbling, like dreams

But still, it was best to stay outdoors

Even if the big’un kids were up the street

*

Its where the beating of the heart that kept us alive was

Day after day peddling through the crooked street

Houses leaned, brick scarred

Moments away from tumbling

‘till tyre burns turned Little Jack’s knee into bone.

It was just some dust in his eyes

*

Back then sirens and front garden washing lines were common

Scuffed shoes and ragged pants would get you a smack in’t chops

These were things we knew.

Sure as the fathers would find their way back from the local each night

We’d get ourselves home before the first flicker of the streetlights,

Or else

*

Always the harsh of Truth, that things would be hard sometimes

Barely a knee high, I watched you nip home on my bike

How much longer than an hour could you take?

‘Til mum shouted up the street that Tea was out

And I pleaded through scrunch eye sighs

Looking off up the street like a pup by the wayside

Praying for a few more minutes

*

It was just some dust in my eyes

*

Nowadays I think they sweep the streets

Some illusion of time has grown the big’uns to scale

And if we’d ever have minded, id ask for the scars on their elbows

Less likely now than Sahara snows or

A Chernobyl rose

For I drove down the Slum last week and nobody hit a ball at my car

And when the streetlights roused the night

I didn't think of my bike

Little Jacks knee

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