If I tied my city to a Pidgeon’s neck
it would fly to a factory and die there.
If I tied my city to a Pidgeon’s neck
I think it would break into blue-collar flowers.

If I tied Margaret Thatcher to a robin redbreast
It would bleed itself dry and rise as a scab
and all the lathes would turn in their grave
where Jaguars roared from heels of men.

If I untied Coventry from claws of it’s Phoenix
men would rise from the old world again
breaking windows of fat brown envelopes
aglow in their blitz from Daw Mill coal.

Antony Owen
illustration Nick Victor

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