In 1854, conditions met
low expectation. Civic health was poor.
The gutters flooded filth and crime was debt,
in 1854.
Most lives were hard, with rats enjoying more
than peasants starved and stunted, people fret
with grief and squalor, thirsty, dirty, sore.
My tactic now is trying to forget
the present, future dashed, the end in store.
That’s why I’m reading all these stories set
in 1854.
Cutterpub 