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Poem of the Week - ‘Handshake’ by Alan Buckley


When I speak
to my father now
he is always
wearing the same
clothes - olive green
cap, matching
zip-up jacket
brown corduroys
slightly too short.

His eyes are still
behind thick,
glasses, but death
has loosened him,
suppled his throat,
so nothing now
is left unspoken.

I move to embrace
him; catch myself.
My right hand
drops, meets his
in a firm grasp.
My left hand
hovers in mid-air
not knowing where
it should land. 



With a sharp and slow tone, Buckley captures the subtlest details of action and emotion in his poem Handshake. His poem can be found in The Emma Press Anthology of Fatherhood, along with many others.     

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