Poems from Beverly Rycroft’s new collection A Private Audience.
(See “Diary” for launch details.)

From "A Private Audience" 2017: 'Matchless'


Matchless

My dad was a motorbike champ.
He rammed the pedal
of that 1957 Matchless
with the ball of his foot
and pulled a trigger,
bulleting right to the record-
breaking bend of the East London
track, the trembling chequered flag.
Goggled, gloved, greased-back,
he showed them all –
once and for all.

Even thirty years later
he knew how to dismantle
an engine to its impartial
pieces, pick it apart
until the entire disassembled
beast lay silenced
on his garage floor.
Then reconstruct it,
better than before.

The three of us he dissected too,
laying our soft sections out
in careful rows. No challenge, that.
One skilfully twisted phrase
shattered everything. It was
the putting together again
that baffled him.



From "A Private Audience" 2017: 'Matchless'