for Hugh Carr

Wash your paws
Sit into the floorboard table
The woman will be in soon with a plate

Took in the kitchen
Raw floorboards as table
Rough as his spade hands
Sea salt that’d cut
The eye of a swimmer
Thick slab of butter with matching
Hunks of home-made coarse meal bread
Sawn and wrenched from cake round

She slapped a treen in me front
An overflowing potato mountain and leg of lamb
Roaring eat your fill