Workers, by Peter Kennard
by Owen Gallagher
We doubled our shifts,
filled our bellies with water,
queued at food banks.
The envelope came:
URGENT!
Bailiffs left ghostly images
of our tv
and settee
against the walls.
We were evicted from ourselves.
Disconnected
from each other,
evicted
from each other. Locked out.
Our lives are in bin bags.
Our children are in Care.
The moon – unscrewed.
