Poem of the North

Fifty years of the Northern Poetry Library

From Canto 1

Ghost crossing

Making an enemy of the wind, a crow
backtracks on its own trajectory against
the slender iron of the Transporter Bridge
a pair of shoulders over the Tees, slacked
from its clot of shoreside forges, as if it’s all
forgetfulness and soul, the clocktower with three
faces, the fourth bricked over, a penny over
the one eye, to stop workers watching it,

a last red brick tooth in the maw of the old
Forty Foot Lane foundry, with a look of pain

from the steeled air, stolen, we take it in.

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