Tim Cunningham outside St. Mary’s Cathedral
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The Lepers’ Squint
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They call it the Lepers’ Squint:
The hole in the cathedral’s north wall,
In the Holy Spirit Chapel
Tucked away left of the organ pipes,
Where mediaeval lepers pressed
To peer in at the service,
Queued for the bread of heaven.
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They call it the hole in the wall:
The cash dispenser centuries along the street,
Left of the blind musician
Where pigeons peck at crisp bags
Littering the city’s north transept.
We congregate, press pin numbers,
Squinting in the sun.
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– Tim Cunningham
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