Poetry by Gareth Culshaw

               ​​Paul Sableman CC



​
GROUNDHOG DAY

Another shift has ended, eight hours
in the wallet. My forklift truck 
has moved the earth again.

I drive through the streets of night
reel in my home. Pub doors 
open, show the thinning hair of men

that were schoolmates. I see
a gull on top of a bin as the traffic 
light turns red. My car radio rustles

through the sky. Tomorrow morning
I will drive the other way and back 
to work, listen to the milkman rattle 

glass. See the first gull take flight, 
catch a fox on the kerbs of our town.
Watch the moon pull up the sun.

Clock on, open the locker, turn 
the key for the engine. Lift the earth 
again with my forks. Feel the weight 

in the lightness. 

​

Gareth lives in Wales. He has two collections by FutureCycle called The Miner & A Bard's View. He is a current student at Manchester Met. Twitter culshawpoetry1

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