Murray Was His Name by Gareth Culshaw

He had a brother, younger than him.
Both were old but had aged
slowly like pebbles.

He had conifers that hid our football.
Kept a bolt on his gate to keep us out,
and even placed barb wire over his short

fence to prevent us bending over
and grabbing our footie. He had big
ears which looked like they might fold in

when he went to bed. He never
liked any of us. Our calling, shouting,
swearing was too much for his generation.

Murray was his surname. He walked
as if his toes were too heavy for his feet.
I didn’t know the date when he left

but he was one of those people I would
have liked to have met. When I left the teenage
years and became exposed.

Gareth Culshaw
Gareth lives in Wales. He has his first collection out in 2018 by futurecycle.

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