Two Poems by Richie McCaffery

Bad fit

All my life my body’s been an enemy,
wearing clothes too tight to halt any gain,
suits unsuitable and shirts stifling me.

Just before you left me for good, I noticed
the Orcadian silver band you put on my finger
over a decade ago had kept that digit

thinner than the right-hand one, the skin
underneath incorrupt as a relic. It’s been off
two months now and no longer fits at all.

I’m reminded of the lime tree I planted
in an old Belfast sink, the roots eventually
fumbling escape through the plug hole,

riveting the sink to earth at first,
then breaking it in two.

Personal harvest

Fields tilled since Roman times,
each age reflected in the broken
pottery the plough dredges up:
Delft, willow pattern, Samian ware,
salt-glaze, clay-pipe and Bartmann.

There’s both a horror and comfort
to the fact that these fields yield
almost the same crops they did
a thousand years and more ago
like this will always happen.

Richie McCaffery’s most recent publications are two poetry pamphlets - one in 2020 from Mariscat Press (First Hare) and one in 2021 from Fras Publications (Coping Stones).