Sunday, January 3, 2016

A Poem by David Subacchi


On the cafe walls sepia photographs
Of the old couple dominate
Dressed as if for Sunday mass
Their Italian name engraved in glass
Removed from the main door
Has been framed and is displayed
Alongside the family portraits
I catch my reflection in it
Imagine I can hear
Their whispered dialect
Categorizing each customer
A regular, a good tipper,
Likes extra toast, a nuisance,
Watch he doesn't run off
Without paying like last time,
A lovely family always in church
Every Sunday, every Sunday

Teas, ices, confectionery, cigarettes
They called it the Temperance Bar
Established in 1896
But it's all big breakfasts now
Another town center cafe
Hidden away down a side street

Wiping my plate clean
Of egg yolk and baked beans
I smile at Signor Marubbi
Looking down sternly
From an ornate frame
The ends of his mustache
Are impressively waxed
I get up and pay hurriedly
Returning my empty cup
As I leave
He seems to wink.

David Subacchi was born in Wales (UK) of Italian roots and has published two collections of poems.  First Cut (2012) and Hiding in Shadows (2014).  He studied at the University of Liverpool and is a full time writer and poet.  He is increasingly well published internationally.  Blog:  You can find more of David's work online, including performance videos simply by searching David Subacchi + Poet

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