DEATH IN A WHEELBARROW

 (on reading of the corpse of a murdered youth being pushed through the streets of Leeds one night in a wheelbarrow)

 So this is life in our civilised society

First bludgeoned away

The trundled through un-inquisitive streets

In a squeaky wheelbarrow

Like manure for somebody’s allotment

 

Not that it mattered to him

Whether he was headed for the rubbish-tip

Or some knackers yard

On the other side of town

 

But you, good people of Leeds,

How can you live with your indifference?

You walk your dogs

Roll out of your pubs

Wait for your buses

Admire you plate-glass images

And piss in your alleyways

 

Not caring that a mile

Of your bumpy city-centre pavements

Wheel-barrowed your dead