The Milkman – a poem

This poem was published in The Newcastle Centre for the Literary Arts Review in January 2017 here and in The Oxonian Review in January 2018 here.


The Milkman


A skin had formed over her hot chocolate,

creasing clinging off her spoon –

grandmother’s bingo wings.

“I couldn’t get a regular rhythm,”

he had said.

Surely the milk could not be off?

She’d only bought it yesterday,

from the kind man whose hands

she imagined soft as clotted cream,

pooling pennies in the lap of her fiver.

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