thejunkyardprocession revamped | Page 13

By my dad’s bed and the bridge Before the tram-stop; elsewhere Though the sunset’s lost Trees, buildings and dips In the ground the cause. I post to Facebook something 4. Brick steps. I’m going up them The wire fence pushed aside Behind traffic passing; to Salford And Manchester. Some bush or Flower brushes my face I find Nothing of interest. Richard you can Call it a day if you like. The viaduct Disappear here forever 5. Proving the truth of that Einstein epigraph About times future, present and past being Constructs, essentially; in hospital all sense Is gone of night becoming day. I bite my tongue Down on a correction. Me, I’m forever getting The day wrong 6. I text his sister: he seems better today He has more colour; is more talkative And is cracking jokes with the nurses Doctors & orderlies. I hit send. I don’t say: his awareness of his Condition and the pain he seems in, still Is why I’m stood here, right now, crying. A Metrolink worker approaches And says “in January the line will be down” 7. The buildings drop suddenly away And those lights I see I know to be Manchester. Nightly, given me a Different view of the city. I must Remember it. The Mosque; the Closed shops; the takeaways; open Neon lit. From the rail replacement bus I’ll be back there soon. Yesterday my Father 13