ii. & back
Todmorden
Small bullet slicing the afternoon
seeks expansive market square,
proud chimney tops and spires
for long journeys into summer,
mud and cuckoos, leaf-canopies
Must have own Post Office.
– Ambitious, 14.24 to Manchester
*
Walsden
The poster pinned to the fencepost
says talk to us, so I do.
I describe the low and high places
of the land, the rabbit-coloured
undergrowth, the leaning
improbable sheds. I say what I mean
by stranger and by homecoming
and rooks settle in the branches
and nothing contradicts me,
nothing murmurs its assent.
*
Littleborough
Little lover, stealing
the duvet of the sky
and curling into it
switching off
the valley moon
and reading alone
by the light
of the silver canal.
*
Rochdale
As if I could step down from
the train, walk blinking through
the birth and boom of wool,
the clamour of the Rochdale Pioneers,
as if I could touch baize,
kerseys and flannels
my body whirring
spun like cotton
on the river’s spindle.
*
Castleton
You say ‘mind the step’
and I think of you climbing down
from heaven, treading gingerly.
I know your secrets,
Blue Pits Village, know your given name,
your ancient boundaries.
Oh, build new walls
around me, Castleton. I promise
to tread carefully.
– Cautious, 14.45 to Manchester
*
Mills Hill
I’m still a kid
on the sandpapery platform
with my Reebok Classics on,
waiting for the arc of track
to sharpen with sound,
waiting for the rails to sing,
waiting for the train to show itself,
smelling the vinegar
and hops of home.
*
Moston
Orange flowers
and autumn leaves
the size of dawn
on the Welcome mural.
*
Victoria
I used to dream of flying
above Accrington and Burnley
Bury, Radcliffe, Pendleton,
fast over Skipton, Gisburn,
Nelson, Colne and touching down
somewhere this map could only
gesture to – black margins,
daubed white with Zeebrugge
Antwerp, Ghent, all the
the world after Oldham
and now, all I want
is to ghost the tracks at night
go unnoticed
to the boundary
of the place I was born
and the place my name’s from
throw stones
at the terrace window
where my grandad’s pianos
still keep their music
land just one right
and hit the keys
with a noise
that might be
joy.
by Helen Mort
Helen Mort was commissioned by Manchester Literature Festival and Northern to write a sequence of poems inspired by the journey along the Manchester to Hebden Bridge line. The poem was performed on a special poetry train event on Sunday 13th May 2018.
Manchester Literature Festival
The Department Store
5 Oak Street
Manchester
M4 5JD
www.manchesterliteraturefestival.co.uk
Copyright © Helen Mort 2018
Manchester Literature Festival would like to thank Northern, Arts Council England and Manchester City Council for their generous support.
