Poem #2,838 | Their slumping pub

Their slumping pub sits
with its flood defences
set as a false tooth in a
crumbling gap – It pulls
pint-eyed thrill seekers
in from Uckfield’s tatty
once-flooded streets –
A slop tray drips [stink
of off ale] as another’s
spills before suppings –
sticky underfoot – You
sit in your immaculate
refitted house immune
to such as that pub – &
around you is empty of