Ewen Glass

I Wash My Hands in Streams

Kids at a forest picnic,
a weft of voices untangling
before sweaty ham sandwiches.
Sunday Dad finds an oak tree and
relieves himself of Saturday night,
humming June Tabor as he returns to us,
for now.

listening to June Tabor years later,
I find no brook to him. No,
I wash my hands in streams.

About the Author

Ewen Glass (he / him) is a poet from Northern Ireland who lives with two dogs, a tortoise and lots of self-doubt; on a given day, any or all of these can be snapping at his heels. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in HAD, Bridge Eight, Poetry Scotland, Gordon Square Review, and elsewhere.