Crannog / No - Crannóg

Crannóg No 7 winter 2004
Anthony Kenneth Hickey
Anthony, always with
Three and a half cigarettes
For anyone who was short.
Limping with his bad leg,
The metal burnt,
To English's corner
To meet the other members of Dad's Army,
But couldn't make the walks.
He put butter in his hair
When he ran out of Brylcream.
I watched his wife cut his ear
As she played the barber
In that small warm kitchen,
Both standing,
Circling,
Courting butterflies.
He tended the strawberries,
Falling in terraces,
Across the banks of my father's garden,
Below the little shed,
Where neighbours told me horror stories.
Wouldn't use the fancy cane
They bought for him.
The others might think he had money.
Those final days the hardest.
Thinking the TV presenter was talking to him.
Convinced the workmen
In the street outside
Were Natzis trying to blow him up.
Back in Sheffield 1941 again.
Screaming at his wife
To get out of their bed.
What kind of man did she take him for ?
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