We're delighted to present our Poem Of The Week, presented in association with Poetry Ireland.
This week's poem is Saints by Iulia David - read it below.
Love is late Sunday at lunch,
all the family around the table, saints
at the top of the teaspoon handles
coming to life with warm pie –
the table's old pine,
the chairs are smoked oak,
they don't talk to each other,
four brothers bowing their heads
before their father, a necklace of gods
come to earth as themselves –
they're passing the tray around,
thick fingers, palms, coarse
as the crust on the pie,
where's the wine to wash away
the aftertaste of childhood –
the wine is over and the cold blood
orange juice rests in stains –
no wonder the dog shares
the melancholy of the leftovers,
unrestrained as they are,
with bare bones and pickles
and heart-shaped plums –
there's a vestige of busyness
between the blinks of the candles
one of them asks, another replies,
yes, it's already half past four,
then silence again. Another one turns
the radio on and a sad song dunks
the afternoon light in the sugar kitchen,
blue lino meets blue tiles,
a baby snake about to be born
in the corners of their eyes –
it's only a matter of time till one
will fight the other, these kind people,
who put the suckling pig on its bed of apples
with their hands and peeled the potatoes
with their hands, always on the lookout
to slake the ravenous thirst handed down
from the first to bear their name –
when there's no more wine,
they go for more pie, always,
always keep their mouths busy,
not to drop from between their teeth
the name of the one who died –
About the Poet: Iulia David is a Romanian-born, London-based poet who graduated from the MA in Writing Poetry at the Poetry School and Newcastle University. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Magma, The Rialto, harana poetry, Perverse, and the League Against Cruel Sports anthology For the Silent. She won a special commendation in the 2017 Oxford Brookes International Poetry Competition (EAL).
