Poetry

Werner Du plessis photo

By

Gareth Culshaw

Measuring Our Time

The ruler and pencil were where I wanted

to be, dotting the measurements of

our days together. You would lay the ruler

on wood, metal, plastic. Anything that

needed to be marked was best.

As I grew you allowed me to nip

a pencil lead, dash the length, ladder

time for the saw to cut away.

The clank of a felled piece, grind

and thud. Cymbal shimmer, dumpf

wood, release, release. You allowed

me to see what lay ahead

but I never knew I was cutting away

our time together.

Phlegm

I remembered the phlegm

that sat yolk-like

on the avenues face.

The unknown throat

unseen feet, unheard gob.

Then I found out who it wasn’t.

Bringing me to the man

who worked the badger shift

of excavating the layers of life.

All the shaft lifts that teased

to take him to death’s darkness

then brought him back to the light.

Where his lungs had collected

the sweat that had brewed

from the chipping and scraping.

He had hewed away his throat

mined his own zing.

Gareth Culshaw

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