Poetry by Siobhan Logan
You went away from us once before:
I remember those curtained evenings
when we clambered onto the big bed
five of us snug as a litter of pups
to hear your letters read.
'Standing Room Only,' was how you described
that tumbling boat riding the swell.
Afterwards tramping around a red-bricked town:
even without the 'NO IRISH' signs, you were advised
you'd never rent ‘with a lock of children’.
So you doubled up on shifts instead