photograph taken from the Humber Bridge looking towards Hull on the North Bank

I’ve fallen out of love
with here, my place my home town
where almost all that has happened to me happened
So, I go for a walk to where the ferries leave for Amsterdam and
Retell my story to this tide
My mother ‘v’ boned haddock and cod
Shopped at Frank Dees
before they knocked down
all our short rows
short rows of terraces and flats
Returning weekends
two buses
east to west
back to Hessle Road

My people took trains to Withernsea
bought us kids crisps and pop in Spread Eagle pub.
It was always a good turn at the club
last Friday or Saturday night.
My people came by boat from Ireland
Have dreams written down between the odds and horse names on betting slips.
They know the look of the Bethel Man and how to pawn a suit to get by between settling days.
My people know fish, the stink of tanneries, the silky sound of linseed and the heft of a bill hook.
Some of my people waved to the Queen at the opening of the Humber Bridge. 
My people were there when Dean Windass scored the goal taking us to the Premiership.
My people were trawlermen, spending money for love, those three-day millionaires. 
We know some the cost of fish

I can walk from here, keep going, swerve west past the river Hull and
St Andrews Quay.
Thinking I need to be somewhere else not here anymore
But to love this place all I need to do is remember my people to hold on they, we are Hull
My people and this place with their truths and their myths.
This North East Coast Town
On the bank of the Humber
Where gulls and crows disturb the air
Tides reveal clay
As the Humber ebbs and flows
Not concerned with thirst or the reading of maps
I’ve fallen back in love
My people come from here
Hull is my own home town story

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