By Steve Hunt

Location: Strangeways

Smoke plumes from the pepperpot
I never noticed that before
I thought they hanged men there
A beacon to warn us of the enemy within

They could not keep the fires burning
As the deadman walked the sooty steps
The hangman would choke
But the smell reminds us
That the Devil waits beneath the trap

And the ascent to the drop
From the highest point here
Conspires with cathedral spire
To scrape the sky
And glimpse the face of a God so near

If only we’d mend our strangeways

Steve Hunt is North Mancunian born and bred. Sometimes he writes, sometimes he reads, sometimes he makes pictures.