Men you can’t pay
No matter how you insist, we’ll thumb
our beards, mumble groundwards
wouldn’t dream of it love until
in return for the iron rails
we’ve wrought for your curtains,
the earth we’ve dug, you resort
to desperate means – trick an egg
into our frying pan, spill an extra
drop of lager into our pint
when we’re looking away – to get around
this roughing of palms, twisting of fingers,
this least I could do, it’s really no bother.
Rowan Lyster a poet from Herefordshire, based in Bristol. Her poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in publications including Anthropocene, Bath Magg, Magma, PERVERSE, Poetry Wales, Tentacular, The Rialto, The Scores and Under the Radar, and her Legitimate Snack was published this year by Broken Sleep Books.
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