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The Angel Of The North

A poet named this new colossus.
The service station told me, 'You can't miss it.'
Miles away, it seemed less than a pylon.

The traffic slowed, we all crept past it,
My eye only partially aligning the car,
Partially taking cognizance of the movement
Of this significant being's massive wings,
And as I went on into Newcastle
I watched it hold the sky behind,
Through driving mirrors realigned.
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