Grandad’s pride and joy, black kit
set square in a red box – glossy
handle – needle jumping out
and into place as you flip the lid.
Shirley Bassey on repeat – bass
stripped to tinny, but it didn’t matter.
We had to wait ‘til eight to play – fingers
too young, too plump, too clumsy.
One warm June night before
Knight Rider, I slipped in a shiny vinyl
while he was out for a smoke – waited
for the crackle then the voice
put my ear to where it spun
weighing up risk with every turn
of the groove – ah, there she is
booming, glorious, from boot bottoms
and softened by the notes of Embassy Mild
flooding through the crack of an open window.
Nicky Kippax is a poet from York. She received a Northern Writers’ Award in 2022 and is currently finishing her first collection. Most recent work can be found in PN Review, Oxford Poetry and The Rialto. Nicky also hosts Rise Up! A monthly celebration of poetry and the spoken word.
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