Sunday was
My favorite time.
First - Mass
The dog outside
Waiting
And then the pub -
Uncle with his pint
And I with my bitter lemon
The dog now under the bar stool
Too old to beg for much.
After
Sunday dinner
At Nanas.
Socks on my hands
If the day was cold
No chilblains for me.
Chicken and mash
Pie and custard
In the parlor
Then my brothers came
With my mother and sister
Sour sometimes
- Why’s SHE special
Want some?
COW
You can have it
You’re adopted
If… you eat my snot
FUCKER
I’m telling
A wail – someone was boxed
Maybe me
- Stop teasing
And then
Our Sunday drive.
Seven of us squeezed
Into the Fiat
Secret pinches
In the back seat
Couldn't cry
The Fiat chugging along
In jumps and starts
Until she settled down
On her chassis.
Then Mam and Uncle
Sat and talked
In the lounge
While we fished for minnows
Which we kept in old jam jars.

How I longed to get away
From the slowness of it all
And now
I'd give anything
To go back.