Charred chimney blackened
horizons wreathed in
cotton from the mill,
coal from the pit,
spinning wheel spun
ocean depth burrowed;
dark and darkening,
surrounded railway terminals
clanking clamouring,
crashing their weights
freights of billets and cables,
smithied and forged from
molten steel heaving hissing
endless streams whiter than
the eyes of those snap-tinned men;
fire-breathers off the graveyard shift
criss-crossing paths with their
cock-crowed young mates,
on crammed jammed rattling trams
rolling home to neat-boxed quadrangled
estates where daytime lungs ache
for more of that air and
early evening eyes strain for
more of that light
doused too soon by
charred chimney blackened horizons.