Dead Crow

Before the Soldiers Came

Do you remember the city
when it was young?
When factories claimed the suburbs
and the crows wore gasmasks;
grubbing in the trees
for the delicate prize
of a blackbird’s egg
or a piece of road kill.

I remember soot and coal
and father’s rifle on the hearth
and stealing bullets
to lay on the train tracks.
And Robbie Atkinson
coughing up blood
when we left him by the canal.