As it must have been

Steam rises from drains that reek of knuckle bone
boiled overnight with star anise,
as it must have been
when livestock roamed the streets.

Washed sheets drape the wires between tenements.
From under a raincoat in a doorway,
a junky’s hand tattooed with flowers cups for money.
The stolen phone shop pings open.
‘Purple Rain’ streams out from the minimarket
stacked with dried fish, daikon, sacks of rice
and the fire of meteorites
from steep terraces outside the city
that arrived at dawn as dragon fruit on a boy’s bicycle.

On a balcony, a woman with a jug anoints her hair
in a shimmering veil of water.
She brushes one droplet under each eye.
With arms outstretched, she gazes into the belly of the sky
where one good god will be waiting
with all the other gods, grateful for the attention,
thankful for another day with these precious humans,
as it must have been
when livestock roamed the streets.

From the Anthology ‘Echoes’ edited by Bloodaxe’s Neil Astley for 20 years of ‘Write Out Loud’