This poem is set during the conflict between the Catholic and Protestant members in Belfast in the 1960s. It opens up with action, the opening is set in the midst of the riot. The riot squad moves in and chaos breaks loose. The noise of the riots is metaphorically compared to writing devices. After this, the perspective suddenly jumps to the first person, to the author’s point of view. He is unable to form a thought in his head, he had started. The streets are blocked with stops and colons, the same way as his thoughts.
The second stanza continues with the poet’s perspective. His sense of confusion in the midst of the chaos grows. His thoughts are jumbles with the knowledge of the previous conflicts: Crimean Street, an allusion to the Crimean War. He knows the labyrinth well, but can’t seem to find the exit, meaning that he knows how these things play out from second-hand knowledge, but it differs from actually being in the midst of it. The stanza ends with the poet feeling a complete loss of himself, of his identity and confusion of where he’s going.
