Yeah that place is a dump

Tastes like poverty:
wide roads,
no one with fuel to ride them.
Casinos and bingo-
coins like wishbones,
dream of swimming in them.

Even here,
shiny leaflets and theatre lights,
the floor cries dust balls,
DIY people for whom ripped clothes are not a choice, for whom
grim North is an inhalation.

The shame of it,
takeaways and silence.
A slogan-slapped bus heralded by the wilted
cardboard common people.

Iโ€™m getting out of here you know
words like a disco ball, glitter tongue dreaming.



Isabelle Kenyon is the northern author of 5 poetry chapbooks โ€“recently Indigo Dreams Growing Pains. She is the editor of Fly on the Wall Press. Her short story The Town Talks has just been published with Wild Pressed Books.