Poetry Centre

The punt swings clear

  • The punt swings clear of the water with a slap
    Fingers of water slipping from the prow
    1925, my grandfather, waistcoat flapping in the warm breeze
    Casts a boatbuilder’s eye over his bargain.

    His Oxford centred on Salter’s yard
    River and canal his highways, a city of fords and wharves.
    I tread the solid ground, but the boatman rowed sure.


    by Rex Knight