So I’ve been away this weekend, and the past two days. I have drafts though! Just haven’t had a chance to type anything up. So here’s what I wrote for day nine.
Amidst industrial factory air
they stalk; sailor trousered, donkey fringed
their buckled serpant weaponry
heavy in hand.
The Hope St boys are out tonight.
Sirs! Lock up your daughters,
your horses. Shut the windows
scuttling, skulking across the
The Hope St boys hit the town tonight.
Will glass you in a single dirty glance
on the dancefloor; fight in the
five hundreds, football shirted
The Hope St boys are round our way tonight.
But they are not hooded rockport stompers
Not quick to anger tracksuits wrapped in
Enigma coded blank stares outside
They are the Hope St boys,
the ghosts of Manchester.
Coming for you.