The Friday Poem on 07/01/22
We chose Sharon Phillips’ poem ‘Inheritance’ for The Friday Poem this week because we love its pace and its control. In one single sentence Phillips sets a scene, tells a story, and evokes a real sense of joy and satisfaction at the connection between the speaker and her grandfather, George. There’s nothing unnecessary in this poem, it does its job in the same way as both the speaker and her grandfather do theirs — efficiently and with flair.
Inheritance
i.m. George Damsell
My first break from college, on a shift
down the sorting office, I’m lobbing
letters into slots, faster and faster,
having a laugh at it, makes a change
from fretting I’m daft all term: I know
the postcodes and places, I’m on top
of a game I never dreamt I’d be playing,
so when those letters are gone, I turn
for my next batch, wanting that high,
and I see these old chaps waiting there,
excuse me miss, I hope you don’t mind,
says the one, we heard George was
your granfer; another, we worked here
with him until he died; then the last,
we wanted to say how proud he’d be
if he saw you had his knack for sorting.
