Some Norman MacCaig for National Poetry Day

It’s national poetry day (apparently). here’s some Norman MacCaig
His car sits outside the house.
It never goes anywhere. Is it
a pet?
When he goes for his morning paper
he makes a perfect right-angle
at the corner.
What does he do at home? Sit at attention?
Or does he stay in the lobby
like a hatstand?
Does his wife know she married
a diagram? That she goes to bed
with a faded blueprint?
When I meet him
he greets me with a smile
he must have bought somewhere.
His eyes are two teaspoons
that have been emptied
for the last time.


(from The Many Days (ed Roderick Watson) (2010) p 85)

About loveandgarbage

I watch the telly and read when not doing law stuff and plugging my decade and a half old unwatched Edinburgh fringe show.
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