‘The Iron Children’ by Rachel Plummer

The Iron Children Along our street the iron children come, cast and wrought. The road rings like a struck cymbal below their clanging feet. For luck we clank our coins into their mouths, all dumb as metal, hear them rattle down and thrum the stainless engines deep inside each quick gullet. They flood the street with blood-smell, thick as rust; church bell faces. What will … Continue reading ‘The Iron Children’ by Rachel Plummer