THE RAG CANAL
Well in the suffocating month of August '86
As even the few rain spurts failed
We took to swimming in our own back yard neck of the woods
There the canal was
And a more enticing prospect than the river Roche
Which was closer
And more approachable
For the likes of rats
And shopping carts
And hooligans
Plus, there is no real flow to a canal
The stagnant nature of it
Although a breeding ground for god knows what
Meant that we could sedately
Tread
Water
We are dogs and hippos
Wafting lower limbs
None of this whooping and bombing and belly flopping
Kids off a pier
No white horses, no foam, no splash, here
Instead
Eye level with a towpath of history
Looking at the smashed windows of the big old mills
All of this unused at the moment
And no danger
No boats here anymore
The grasses untouched for decades
Waving their beards
Wait
Perch could be nibbling though
And pike are biting
It's we who are bobbing and weaving
Ducking and diving