Poem
Steve Ely
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Cutting in the cane fieldsor hacking back scrub,
it was something we were used to:
after all, we were farmers.
We’d gather every morning
before setting out,
then cutting all day
in the jungle and marshes.
We’d come back exhausted,
well worthy of beer
and brochettes. Our wives
turned their backs in bed.
In those days was beef
and ribsteak in plenty.
We bore the knives ourselves:
slaughtering, jointing.
We feasted like the elegant kings
to whom were given
such bloody instructions
they jumped to the life to come.
© 2014, Steve Ely
Steve Ely
(United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 1965)
Steve Ely is one of the most exhilarating poets currently working in the UK and is just, at the time of writing, becoming well-known. Oswald’s Book of Hours deals with a sense of Englishness – specifically, northernness – exemplified by the events of a thousand years. Written in rich, textured, idiosyncratic English, the book was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection (2013...
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WORK
Cutting in the cane fieldsor hacking back scrub,
it was something we were used to:
after all, we were farmers.
We’d gather every morning
before setting out,
then cutting all day
in the jungle and marshes.
We’d come back exhausted,
well worthy of beer
and brochettes. Our wives
turned their backs in bed.
In those days was beef
and ribsteak in plenty.
We bore the knives ourselves:
slaughtering, jointing.
We feasted like the elegant kings
to whom were given
such bloody instructions
they jumped to the life to come.
WORK
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