It’s dark and dismal
in damp and dirty Belfast,
the road to work, is
a greasy liquorice snake
My first day back since leaving
you in England; emails
demanding and wanting,
to high-heaven are piled up
I could bloody well clear
the desk of its’ contents
swipe from its’ top, the letter
trays and date stamp, the paper
clips and telephone
and the computer; let it crash
the whole lot on the floor,
and I could
Instead, I fill the kettle,
wash cups for coffee;
the first day back
always looks like this only
this time is different
not how I knew it when
I left a week ago, though
probably by lunch-
time the sun will show,
the emails will be kicked
into touch and this moment,
this now moment will be
gone just like yesterday,
last week, last year; gone
like my first day at school
and the sun,
if it doesn’t show
by lunchtime then maybe
tomorrow. Have a good day
at Uni, son
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem