Tuesday poem #614 : Catriona Strang : Cattle, sheep, crops, money

 

It’s been the ruttiest
week, all peaky looking
rust bins and how did I even
get here, as the man with the hip
flask barges over and links arms
with global trade? What if jute sang, or
cotton or iron, ships or steel, a defence
unpicked by a chip just drunk enough
to be fierce in this communal
game played in a rebel’s self-
washed kit now glorified by
empire’s trade in myth, prejudice
and illusion – nought’s had, all’s
spent – so we flew into
our new enemy, at Brockton Oval as at
Stirling Bridge, our basket-weave
adaptation taking shape
on the fly: tackle him low!

 

 

 

A founding member of the Institute for Domestic Research, Catriona Strang is the author of Low Fancy, Corked, Reveries of a Solitary Biker, and Unfuckable Lardass and co-author of Busted, Cold Trip, and Light Sweet Crude with the late Nancy Shaw, whose selected works, The Gorge, she edited. A new chapbook appears next week with above/ground press.

She frequently collaborates with composer Jacqueline Leggatt, and lives with her two grown kids on stolen xʷməθkʷəy̓əm, Sḵwx̱wú7mesh, and səl̓ilwətaɁɬ Lands. She is recovering from decades of caring labour.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan