STEEL MAN -
Born into creased dusted hands
when honour kept a tongue tied down
being drunk still in working clothes
climbing a steel female in mornings hungover cloud
oh its heights and flame
16 years old on the narrow beam
shirt torn like flesh in a gales spoken curse
jagged cuts kiss the iron skin
and red molten drops of riveted blood
spill across the days ending sun
the dead are counting bolts and shears
all piled beneath a steel factory ground
now 63 i see memories fall and stand
as progress tears all honour down
the smoke i feasted in taste and dance
ladies replace the iron flesh
with names and moonlit breast
i hold the face
in creased and dusted palms
and honours tongue hangs in fear
im still drunk in working clothes
but shirts and collars judge me now
one last time i climb the steel
in mornings hungover clouds
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