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Friday Poem – ‘Girl Golem’ by Rachael Clyne

This week’s Friday Poem is ‘Girl Golem’ by Rachael Clyne from her new collection You’ll Never Be Anyone Else.

Girl Golem
The night they blew life into her, she clung
bat-like to the womb-wall. A girl golem,
a late bonus, before the final egg dropped.
She divided, multiplied, her hand-buds bloomed;
her tail vanished into its coccyx and the lub-dub
of her existence was bigger than her nascent head.
She was made as a keep-watch,
in case new nasties tried to take them away.
The family called her tchotchkele, their little cnadle,
said she helped to make up for lost numbers –
as if she could compensate for millions.
With x-ray eyes, she saw she was trapped
in a home for the deaf and blind, watched them
blunder into each other’s neuroses. Her task,
to hold up their world, be their assimilation ticket,
find a nice boy and mazel tov – grandchildren!
But she was a hotchpotch golem, a schmutter garment
that would never fit, trying to find answers
without a handbook. When she turned eighteen,
she walked away, went in search of her own kind,
tore their god from her mouth.

Golem: man made from clay and Kabbalistic spells, by rabbis to protect Jews from persecution. Truth: תֶמֶא†was written on his forehead and God’s name on his tongue.

Tchotchkele (diminutive of tchotchke): a trinket, a cute child. Mazel tov: good luck. Cnadle: a dumpling. Schmutter: a rag.

Watch Rachael reading the title poem from You’ll Never Be Anyone Else on our Youtube channel:

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Friday Poem – ‘My Welsh Wool Coat’ by Amy Wack

This week’s Friday Poem is ‘My Welsh Wool Coat’ by Amy Wack from the anthology Where the Birds Sing Our Names. Edited by Tony Curtis, money raised from sales of the book go to Welsh children’s hospice  Tŷ Hafan based in Sully, South Wales.

Amy Wack
MY WELSH WOOL COAT
is the colour of sunrise over Castle Hill
in a town called ‘little fort of the fishes’,
my Welsh wool coat, with its too-short sleeves,
its dense weave of water-blues, the pinks of the sun
that grips the brink of the horizon, trying to rise.
You can hear the chink of coins in its pockets
and the mournful cries of gulls as they exit cliff-nests
to ride the thermals that spiral over the harbour.
Its heft deflects the chilblain cold that creeps
in mists up the blue cobbles of Crackwell street.
It is a coat much coveted in the metropolis,
where people actually lean over in the bus
to touch its heady texture, to coo at its colours.
I hide a bit of flotsam in a pocket, a chip of
cockle shell, a faded wedge of willow plate.
Do I keep the coat, or does it keep me?
I’m just the lucky skeleton that gets to hang
Its glories on my bones for a few winters after which
it will go to my daughter who will own it better
being already fluent in its native tongue.

Where The Birds Sing Our Names is available directly from Tŷ Hafan in their shops or online. All proceeds from sales of the book go directly to the charity, no other fees are deducted.

Where the Birds Sing Our Names is an anthology created to raise money for Tŷ Hafan, a charity which provides care and support for children with life-limiting conditions, and their families, across Wales. Contributors include four National Poets – Gillian Clarke, Jackie Kay, Michael Longley and Gwyneth Lewis, as well as some of the best-known writers in the UK and beyond – from Max Boyce and Lord Rowan Williams to the young singer-songwriter Kizzy Crawford.

“This anthology enriches the reader. It is a book to be savoured and enjoyed – the celebration of each wonderful moment from conception through a toddler’s first steps and all the family dynamics of life: the simplest of encounters, of depth and beauty.” – Baroness Finlay of Llandaff.