Unheard Sorrows
I
Along factory lined Pollard Street East in Ancoats, just past the pretty little thing, neighbours are querying a visible cordon with heavy police presence.
I strolled the square to the corner shop. Joe pulled me up & pointed: you seen all them dibble over there? They found a body! Really? Really. Dead? Dead. Who is it? Don’t know. His girlfriend interjected:
It’s the spot where the homeless & addicts hang out. Probably one of them… such a shame innit. Joe spat out: & it’s been freezing annit? It’s been mild. It was wilder last week, I uttered.
Imagine at 3 or 4 in the morning? I shuddered. It’s totally bangers she said. We blow a collective sigh, then fist bump & while bounding away I summoned: we’ll read it in the news tomorrow.
II
I strolled the square to the corner shop,
evening hanging in the balance, & a few days
before the feasting begins,
Joe & his girlfriend are pacing… what’s up?
I’ve been scouring the media about that body.
Was it definitely a dead body? Yeah, he affirmed.
Definitely a dead body, his girlfriend confirmed.
It’s not in the Manchester Evening News!
Nobody cares. Really Joe? They don’t care
his girlfriend attested. The cordon still there?
They cleaned it all up. I shake my head while
Joe iterated, such a shame innit:
Somebody is gonna get a knock at the door.
It’s never nice but at Christmas? We pause
for a moments silence then embrace.
Have a good one. See you soon.
If you want to see how the poor die, come see Grenfell Tower
Charities demand action after estimated 726 homeless people die in England and Wales