MONDAY MORNING
Monday morning
Ivy forcing its fingers
Between the bricks
Of redundant sheds
Rusting rails
Strewn with teacups
Mute as the train
Makes a solemn entrance
Sleek, electric, confident
Gliding aloofly to a halt
At the last platform
We are barely awake
Clutching sustenance
Huddled in overcoats
Steamy breath rising
Dragging our burdens
Behind us on wheels
Jostling for position
A socket and table
Apologising
Half heartedly
With strained smiles
Monday morning
Leaving behind
As we do each week
The terraced houses
Where miners once lived
The ornate tiles
Of the managers house
And the grim slag heaps
Carefully grassed over
Heads bowed, eyes lowered
Heading ever southward.
Copyright © David Subacchi 2013
David Subacchi is a well known poet in Wales and the North West of England and writes in both English and Welsh. His collection ‘First Cut’ was published by Cestrian Press in 2012.
He is a member of Chester Poets and regularly performs his work live at poetry events.
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