Four Poems
Matt Simpson, 19 December 1985
for Tony, former student
In that shop the things stuck out their mitts wanting to strike bargains, get on with the job.
Hammers, brace-and-bits, hearty saws, planes that I’m cackhanded with, chisels with more edge than I can trust, that scoff at fumbling, my kind of muscle.
‘Get yourself a big one, dad!’ Your joke was good, went home: I could have had a son your...