A Lick Of Polish (Poetry)
09th February 2025
It was one of those
regular Sunday
morning jobs he did
his routine rigid
as thankless duty
He’d line up our shoes —
his own black Oxfords
my leather lace-ups
(school regulation)
and Mother’s plain pumps
she wore everyday
when shopping in town
then he’d set to work
with those brushes from
a battered green box
which held cloths and tins
of Kiwi polish —
black and brown — a pot
of Blanco white for
canvas tennis shoes
He’d clean and buff them
like a shoe-shine pro
the rhythm of his
elbows as he brushed
almost musical
regular Sunday
morning jobs he did
his routine rigid
as thankless duty
He’d line up our shoes —
his own black Oxfords
my leather lace-ups
(school regulation)
and Mother’s plain pumps
she wore everyday
when shopping in town
then he’d set to work
with those brushes from
a battered green box
which held cloths and tins
of Kiwi polish —
black and brown — a pot
of Blanco white for
canvas tennis shoes
He’d clean and buff them
like a shoe-shine pro
the rhythm of his
elbows as he brushed
almost musical