Stephen Gilfedder: ‘Terry Hourigan Repairs the Cistern’

Terry Hourigan Repairs the Cistern

Tree stump legs and an archipelago of freckles
On his kiln bright arms, a builder warned by his mum
Against the pick and shovel, yet good for digging out
A cellar by hand this morning, no rockhammer
Or mini ripper or bobcat and a neighbor famous
For his red from Rutherglen now unfashionable but shit
He’s just laid down ten gallons of Blue Imperial
And the Irish Club’s five dollar feed’s not bad
Though Vronnie missed out on the lucky badge draw
BECAUSE SHE BLOODY WELL WASN’T THERE.
You can be unlucky but reckons this is the way to go
And he’s no plumber, though an inlet valve’s an inlet valve
With or without the float, directions are there to be ignored.
He’s helping me between shifting someone else’s lounge
While rebuilding the shanks of his builder’s barrow
For the third or fourth time over twenty years.
Like its owner, battered, but it’ll go another twenty.
Gotcha you bastard, top up the Cascade while you’re at it.

Stephen Gilfedder