Such eloquent Graffiti
It was an ordinary, wet north Manchester night
Of solid rain, unremittingly wet and cold.
When, suddenly, all the rivers, in all the world, stopped flowing
And all the summer colours leached away and never returned
And the wind it got so cold and stings like hell
And then the sky descends into the air.....
And you're not there.
The blackness is deep, deep and remains everywhere
and still today it is every....fucking....where.
Then the doctor
Tells us, as if incidentally,
There is no function, he is dead.
I carry him into the mortuary,
Past the lucky Pakistani family,
With their sick, alive child
Who look worriedly at us
As if they feared the contagion of death.
Which they do.
I feel like shouting
‘It aint infectious you fuckers
And anyway what’s your fucking
God gonna do about it?’
Except fucking cause it. Huh?