like an apology.

Labouring hands,
swelling poultices.

Aa take painkillers like sweets.
Makes the hurt bearable.

His firm’s closing.
Still frost on the car at five
when he leaves for work.

Ah’m aa subby, nae pension,
aa ‘hav’ ti work til ah’m sixty-five.

He took a slow drink of his pint,
Don’t knaa if aa can de it.

I stare at his hands.

Tom Kelly

Taken from I KNOW THEIR FOOTSTEPS
a new collection that will be launched at the Lit & Phil
Newcastle on Monday 30th September.
The poem will feature in the Ofi Press
North East edition in May 2013

http://www.theofipress.webs.com/

And will be published by Red Squirrel Press

http://www.redsquirrelpress.com/