Mark Granier




Mr Feutren (Fruity) isn’t from France
but Brittany. Important. Make no mistake.
Something –– anger? passion? –– has shorn his face
to a bald, beak-nosed, hunched-electric presence.

Yes, he fought with the Germans during the war.
A Breton nationalist, why should he hide
what he believes? What he did was justified
(though I’m not sure who these justifications are for).

The Irish, so stupide! Hard to believe
how little we know, and how can we make a start
when, in restaurants, we ignore the heart
of artichoke, to nibble at the leaves.

Now he has lost patience and swoops to wrench
some slowcoach from his desk. I am in his sights
and will be next. Because of or despite
whatever he fled, he teaches excellent French.

MARK GRANIER’s poetry has appeared in various journals and online publications, including The New Statesman, Horizon Review, The TLS, Magma and The Daily Poem. His fourth collection, Haunt, is due from Salmon Poetry in 2015.

Read more by Mark Granier:

Poem in The New Statesman
Three poems at And Other Poems
Poem in The Burning Bush 2