Monday, December 12, 2016

The Cleaner by Gareth Culshaw

I was told he was gone by his son.
Remembering his frown, like a
ballast of railway line.
Firm as a cliff edge.

He was ex army. Bringing with him
discipline, strictness.
When he came out he opened up a
cleaning business.

Wiping away the used breaths on glass,
brushing away the dead leaves,
sweeping away the lost voices,
hoovering up dead skin

removing nightmares of wars he had known.

Gareth Culshaw lives in Wales. He has been published in various places across the UK and USA.


  1. Perfect title and metaphor, Gareth! Powerful piece!

  2. you seem to be my biggest fan Carolyn! thanks again...