The Smell of the Suburbs
This bank’s inside beats to the beep
of the ATM keyed outdoors. Lunchtimers clutch
waste-lidded cups, fickle through traffic
to lean into their long unpensioned deaths
quietly strangled by lanyards.
An empty bus squeals past spilled
old bins, hacked-back rhubarb
writhes with stems. At the wheel
a driver inhales diesel and vomit-sweet
fumes. A quince bursts pink,
riots the rain, unreported.
Beth McDonough trained in Silversmithing at Glasgow School of Art. After many happy years teaching in various sectors, with significant Trade Union involvement, she returned to study Writing Practice and Study at Dundee University. Often writing on a maternal experience of disability, she is currently Writer in Residence at Dundee Contemporary Arts. Her poems may be read in Gutter, Under the Radar, Northwords Now, Antiphon and many other places.