We Were Expendable


We Were Expendable

No more rush for the factory gates
or bleary welcomes after whistle led race
no longer the shouts of “what shift you on mate?”
and befuddled replies “earlies, no, lates!”

The comforting throng of familial mass
at the end of each day that held no disgrace
when a days hard work meant a days earned pay
something they somehow forgot to replace
as our livelihoods fled eastwards to cheaper climes
and our citadels of labour fell rotting, debased.

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Angie's Diary