Sign up to our mailing list

Issue 6




Graffiti in the NCP Car Park


A boy has writ his missive here

in the half-built shadow of a Holiday Inn Express

and the white lights of a bridal shop.

Standing in the right stairwell


you can track his path across the roof,

from the golden wedding band of the lift machine service box

to the primary display of a telecoms tower

squatting on the corner of John Street.


He would have had to balance on the wall like this,

must have seen how the roofs on the south side are slapped on like thatch,

how in rain the green paint makes the top storey an inland sea,

that he’s flagging the deep end with his yellow tag.


When someone comes to white it over next month

they will cite it as anonymous graffiti

and will note, but won’t record,

that he’s stacked his letters like loaded guns,


that he’s written them again and again

and again like a prayer.

Log In