Burying words in bins
Then the streets
Distilled in silence
At the Cricket club at the back
Minus it’s Sunday night Quiz,

Asda which shut at 5pm
Flooded in darkness
Next to the broken traffic lights
Hung out like a sacrifice
And that Thai Restaurant on Manchester Road

Arguments behind Closed doors
People chained up in imaginary ropes
Crouched by their windows
Breathing in their own tensions
Through the sound of constant coughing

Wishing they could accelerate again
To where they were last Friday
Whether plastered on Deansgate locks
Or lost in a quiet place
Instead of reflecting on shadows in the undertow

Rattling their tears off the carpet
Instead of blown away by the air
Before the world went crazy.