I’m not sure

I’m not sure

But the way

The moon was hung up there

It looked like

Somebody had slung it over

A sky hook

I was asked to get some

From the engineering stores

When a young apprentice.

A couple of

Skyhooks and a long stand.

Oh, how those guys laughed.

A few years later

When I was qualified

To ask for a left-handed spanner

From a pimple-faced boy

With frightened eyes

Who had fallen foul

Of Roy Hess,

A big guy with a sense of humour

He had on loan from an inmate at Durham prison

Who stubbed cigarettes out

On the back of his hand

And said “Form a circle”

When he entered the showers.

How Roy ever got a job

In a cable twinning department

Full of women

Waiting to debag anything in trousers

I don’t know.

He took to drinking

Early in his shift

Before lunch

Poured whisky into his tea

And got to throwing a hammer

At his apprentice

Just for the ‘craic’.

But the moon did hang

At an odd angle.

From my outlook,

It was a Dali slither short of

Slipping away.

How it got there

Is still a mystery to me

Of all the places it could have been

It chose to be here

Just outside of my window.

I waited to see if it would blink

But that would have been too much

To hope for

As I drifted off into sleep

I couldn’t be sure

But it did seem to give

Me a little cock-eyed wink

Cheeky little beggar.