Slow
His house
smelled like
old piss and
oven chips
one year
he invited a few of us
round for a birthday party
when his mother
put the tray
of frozen nuggets
on the table
siblings of all sizes
eagerly grabbed
at tiny brown pucks
they were dirt poor
he seemed half
a step behind
in his head
always
looking off
somewhere
he was kind
they all were
his house sat
at the end
of a terrace
right on
a sharp corner
a sign outside read
‘SLOW!
Accident Hotspot’
after a small cake
& song
we all went outside
to look
at the blood stains
on the pavement
where a woman
had been clipped
by a lorry
earlier that week
Horror Sleaze Trash 