for the inaugural MMU Poetry Prize;
in The SHOp;
collection, Miming Happiness, 2010,
Train Driver's View
he gets the backsides of houses
at him like drawerless drunken women.
front room frill or bit of net, but a dressing
of open yards and washing lines:
off-white news that filters over fences.
in winter, as he slows for points,
InterCitys, under the scrutiny of 60 watts,
spots a woman at the sink, up to her elbows
a row she’s had the night, the year before.
thinks you can track the changes here,
the trip along a passage from front door
to lean-to late-night fags.
of life hanging in an outside lavatory,
like squares of hand-cut newsprint,
with things you’ve never had, and fluttering
the draught of people going places fast.