Best

Back to Manchester.  Him hunched,
hands in pockets, walking
down Oxford Road, the white Roller
keeping level.

My hasty glance and reflex smile
he returned, his eyes shot
with a shoulder-shrug sadness
behind the Irish blue.

He were always United, a red, though.
The best. Even Pele said so
when asked. Even better than you
they wanted to know?

But he were tragedy as well as legend,
and his search, his holy grail,
he could never find at the bottom
of that vodka bottle.

I am not ashamed to tell you I cried
when he couldn't stop,
and his liver, the second, gave out,
and ... you know the rest.

© Cath Campbell

'My dad was a heavy drinker'

Cath is a Northumbrian poet who loves eating, dog walking, and the sea. She has an MA in creative writing from Newcastle university, and has had poems published in several magazines, including Prole, Obsessed With Pipework, Erbacce, and IAmNotASilentPoet. She also has a poem published in #MeToo, a woman's poetry anthology.

The Hair of the Dog

In the land of the clog,
Amsterdam’s hot shots
have got a new idea
for cleaning the streets:
employ a few sots
and reward their labour
with the hair of the dog.
Five cans of beer,
8 euros and a lunch
plus a pouch of tobacco
are attractive to blokes
who can pack a punch.
It keeps them busy
and Oosterpark clear.

It sounds a good deal
yet some are uneasy
and fear that drink
adds fuel to the fire.
But others think
that the objectors
suffer from zeal.

At least if they sup,
a spokesman said,
they won’t binge.
Moreover it’s good
for them to be active
and be encouraged
to pull their socks up.

© Luigi Pagano 2013



Alcoholics paid in BEER to clean the streets