There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
That fist would dropp a hammer on a Catholic-
Oh yes, that kind of thing could start again;
The only Roman collar he tolerates
Smiles all round his sleek pint of porter.
Mosaic imperatives bang home like rivets;
God is a foreman with certain definite views
Who orders life in shifts of work and leisure.
A factory horn will blare the Resurrection.
He sits, strong and blunt as a Celtic cross,
Clearly used to silence and an armchair:
Tonight the wife and children will be quiet
At slammed door and smoker's cough in the hall.
Seamus Heaney's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Docker by Seamus Heaney )
- Poetry Is Where You Find It IV, Frank Avon
- As major, hasmukh amathalal
- Erotic haiku by krishna Shivkumar yadav, Krishna Shivkumar yadav
- Open it happily, hasmukh amathalal
- Footless though, gajanan mishra
- One reason, hasmukh amathalal
- Erotic Cup, Krishna Shivkumar yadav
- I Want To Play All Day and..., Monk E. Biz
- Every Poem Reveals Another Kind Of Sadness, Shalom Freedman
- Gramophone- Erotic Haiku Poetry, Krishna Shivkumar yadav