George Szirtes’s ‘The Death of Woolworths’

Today, a new poem from George Szirtes.
The Death of Woolworths
George Szirtes
I feel like a vulture here, she said. The store
was half sealed-off in the infinite melancholy
of small pickings. Wrapping paper, a score
of remnant CDs, barely enough to load a trolley.
Garden fitments, stationery… all the grand spaces
of the humble, vacated. There stood the childhoods:
the sweet counter, the scribbling pad, the lost faces
of the faintly bored dispensing their gentle goods.
Worlds swell, explode, shed light, draw darkness in.
A match blows out in the draught. Nothing will keep.
A plastic pencil case abandoned in the bin
lifts a helpless lid but makes no unnecessary fuss.
Fire, firelighters, matchboxes, ashtrays… Cheap
vanishings. Vultures. We’ll be the death of us.
Read more about George on his website here.

Treat yourself to a copy of George’s New and Collected Poems (Bloodaxe) here.

7 thoughts on “George Szirtes’s ‘The Death of Woolworths’

  1. Michelle Post author

    I’m honoured George allowed me to post it here, Sheenagh. And it’s hot off the press.

  2. Sue

    It is wonderful and an honor that he “gave” you this. I agree. I love this poem. I love so much of his work and I’m glad your amazon link got me off my duff to order his latest. xo

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