Warby’s brother died.
While he cycled like a madman
and fell down Smiths hill.
He lay dead on the cold tar,
as the light of the day
faded over his head.

Jen said the man from the car
cried,
and,
shouted at the same time,
(while dusty blood ran around his shoes.)

No ambulance came, no need.
The evening knew.
And so,
at that moment,
frost began and so did snow.

Remember:
The wrinkled cheeks of your
neighbours big head,
stuck in our window.
As she told us all, in silence,
bad news like a song.

Life was hard.
we were all untouched
and continued eating, checking phones,
not thinking much,

Harry warby, 18, now boxed.
He washed the blood and bones
From the floor of the butcher’s shop
gave us cigarettes in the black night
While we shivered in gangs around the streets

We never knew the name of the Man
The Man in the car, so silent in the church.
His shaking hands out of reach of the bible
We were not there we stood outside in the chill
Everyone knew a child had died.
Cars waited, mothers stopped, and
The sky looked like it wanted to snow.
I remember.

Kicking  our way over dog **** grass
And broken glass and the rotten
Litter of poverty we wait in silence
For our time to live and escape the estate.