Douglas Dunn, 'A Removal from Terry Street'
On a squeaking cart, they push the usual stuff,
A mattress, bed ends, cups, carpets, chairs,
Four paperback westerns. Two whistling youths
In surplus US Army battle-jackets
Remove their sister’s goods. Her husband
Follows, carrying on his shoulders the son
Whose mischief we are glad to see removed,
And pushing, of all things, a lawnmower.
There is no grass in Terry Street. The worms
Come up cracks in concrete yards in moonlight.
That man, I wish him well. I wish him grass.
Douglas Dunn
This is the poem I intended to post yesterday for day 9 in my month on poetry, but felt too wiped out to do anything last night. Douglas Dunn (b. 1942) is a highly respected Scottish poet. There’s an interesting article about him here.