poor house poor house that falls apart in sixty
years whose windows cloud with webs of blood
whose passages are clogged with waste who creaks
and shrinks with cold and damp all crazed and
cracked who smells of mould and unwashed clothes
and echoing from end to end with emptiness with
people dead and moved away who never come to visit
now and memories there used to be he always said
remember when what was his name the slates are loose
have I had lunch I don’t recall poor house poor house
Ally Kerr
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