Settler’s Song by Roy Moller

Straightliners, young fathers,
you won’t believe
the maze I manoeuvred to be
standing here.  I come with certain
nighthawk credentials
forged in a barroom,
where I danced on sawdust,
identity cancelled,
till energy crumpled
into opportunity
and I folded in the backseat
of a taxi high on Magic Tree
with God knows whom
to fuck knows where.

Playground dads,
you won’t believe
how I used to spend
these winter Mondays
that faded at 3:30. I’d be keeping
and breaking appointments
to sit in chairs in offices
off corridors as the air
was assaulted by crashing trolleys,
bumped by orderlies off for a smoke
while a therapist tried to settle
on why I could never settle.

Dads who strode, expected,
into healthy parenthood
and wait where you were awaited,
you’ll see me stand
apart on my favourite chalk mark,
learning to be local,
breath returning.  You should know
it’s a miracle I’ve fetched up here
in clean air pierced by the bell.

Roy Moller

Roy Moller’s poems have appeared in the likes of And Other Poems, Ink, Sweat & Tears, Paper & Ink and Nutshells & Nuggets. Born in Edinburgh and brought up in Leith, Roy lives in Dunbar. His debut collection Imports was published by Appletree Writers in 2014.



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