Palermo Street

We lived where the
factories frayed 
in a horizon of terraces
where among three generations
I steeped in patterns 
of twitching lips 
and silent looks between eyes
that ricocheted a language fluent 
known only by them
and that grandads and daddies
seemed not to hear.
The lady from number 6 crying 
and cradling her cup
was helped out by Aunt Edie who 
had just read her tea leaves 
in the front parlour 
where heavy drapes 
newly hung and drawn
served only to thicken the odour
of polish and mothballs
And there-in the carved sideboard cupboards
I would delight in the odds and ends,
learning even then
about the process of finding
and how that which I sought most
would more than often emerge
from the bottom of a difficult pile.

Reviews

[Jimmy Yetts]

You exude charm--in your poetry and, no doubt, in everyday life.
Impressive work, gifted artist.

[ANM]

Contours up a Lowery painting... Great writing!

[victoria]

Thank you very much

[ANM]

My pleasure I enjoyed it very much.

[Misery]

A very intriguing creation, dear poet.
It conjures images of a hard-working factory town and the wide-eyed curiosity of a young child. I hope you will share more of these images.

[victoria]

Yes..thank you.

[Misery]

You are welcome, Victoria.