Poetry

Fabrizio Verrecchia photo

By

Gareth Culshaw

He Would Take It Everywhere With Him

He wore a glass on his hand

never letting it get lonely

he carried it everywhere

even putting his wallet inside

so he knew where his money

was going. He would plonk

it down and let his hair fall out

until the weather hit his skull.

The glass was his compass

and sundial. He glugged

from it as if the bottom of the glass

was a portal, that would take him

elsewhere. Refilling it gave

hope that one day he could fall

inside, drown in his own mouth.

Bundled Into A Wheelchair

I saw her last week

bundled into a wheelchair

pushed around by her

daughter’s tongue.

She is past tense now

with apron and over cooked

potatoes left in the ceiling.

Husband used to go searching

for worms while the soil lay in wait.

Her hedge was the biggest

in the avenue. Keeping the

noses out, her voice in.

Those glasses that sat

on the bridge, watching

the world go by like some

toll gate man. She herself

with the busiest pupils around.

Now she sits on the spindles

being spun into the next life.
 

Gareth Culshaw

Gareth lives in Wales. He is an aspiring writer who hopes one day to achieve something special with the pen.