Posted by: okathleen | March 16, 2009

Charity Shop 1



She stank of piss, and had whiskers.

Three cat’s whiskers thrusting from a crusty mole

On her chin, and her hair was thin,

Wispy like sheep’s wool caught on barbed wire fencing

On a hillside, where once she met

A soldier at a bus stop and he gave her cigarettes.

Or so she said with watery eyes,

Whilst routing for coins in a plastic purse with shaking

Fingers and thick yellow nails.


Would you like a bag for this I said glancing at the title –

Now Is The Hour. No thanks,

I’ll put it in my trolley. See you again love, take care.











  1. I love this! Sometimes my sister and I will go “antiquing” you can find the most remarkable items mixed in and around seemingly ordinary things! Your poetry is profound! (is that over the top!?) Seriously, I do love your writing!

  2. Nice one: it’s the bus stop that makes it.

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