Where...voices falter and fingers strip lace and metal..
Where...oily shapes are squandered along collapsed kerbside shopfront..
Where...dreams begin and life ends..
Where...old smiles are reflected in rust..
Where...ugly water washes up dead fish..
Where...fly-tipped memory eats up roofless factory space..
Where...damp cloth pulled tight obscures fading gossip..
Where...cluttered twisted ornaments stride down sparrow allotment fenced path..
Where...for the cloth eared, movement is ghostly...
Where...warehouse beams trap steel smile and welded arm.
Steve Coel
