The Friday Poem on 28/06/2024
It’s all energy, this poem, opening with “and”, jumping straight into the thick of it, and written in one long barely-punctuated sentence with no capital letters – it’s democratic, chatty, human-scale. We feel as if we are gatecrashing the party, but nobody minds and everyone just carries on with what they’re doing. The switch from busy, raucous interior to quiet garden view in the last few lines changes the tone completely, and the reference to a for-sale sign hints at upheaval on the way. It’s a poem that leaves us with plenty to think about.
Dad’s 75th birthday party after the heart attack
and my brother in the kitchen
arguing with dad over who’s making the brew
and how to work the hob to reheat stew
(who’s stirring who, who’s stirring what
the stew or something else
it’s hard to tell) stop stirring dad
did you bring drink sis and why the fuck not
and the lasagne needs more salt
and there’s no salt in the fucking house
and no fucking booze
and the house is rammed
with brother’s loud offspring
and the beef browned in flour
drowned in red wine
brother says he would have used fresh pasta
but the handle fell off the fucking pasta maker
and he’s stewing cabbage in milk
and I can’t eat anything anyway
and mam comes into the kitchen
says this is why
because it could be his last
and makes more tea
and no this is an alcohol-free party
and no salt is bad for your health
fills a bowl with vegetable crisps
and I don’t have the heart to tell her
it’s hard to tell who this is all for
the for-sale sign newly erected
next to the apple trees
the blackbird pecking worms from the lawn
