thank you, Henry

Thank you, Henry

 

1885 –

a year of world firsts

a skyscraper to snag clouds

a bicycle to fall off

the first gasoline engine

reasonable feats –

all overshadowed by a brave man

mixing a secret first batch

of God’s Own Condiment

 

i like to imagine a bottle

in its glorious orange and black finery

passed from one generation

to the next

opened for a christening

a baptism of knife

steel and northern strength

splashed over a wedding banquet

secret war bottles

tucked out of bomb’s reach

still fresh

still strong

a bottle passed hand-to-hand

lifelong

 

family treasure

shared from birth to coupling

to housewarming

to congratulation

to retirement and

the final quiet

sink of fate

in place of roses –

a long heavy shake

for the brass nameplate

 

an unbeatable spirit

in a bottle

behind closed doors

punchy gravy makes a table

binds a community

lifts a stew

gilds a soup

douses a bag of crisps

with glorious brown dew

bathes a pickled egg

a tried and tested way

to relish family friends

and love

 

for me

when they filled in

hole in t’road

they should have poured it

to the brim

a bold tangy public pool

for us all to jump in