Poem of the week: Gunk

Gunk was a word
my mother used
for stuff she couldn't name,
whatever clogged the sink,
blocked the drain,
got on people's shoes.
My father was more of a guff man,
could spot it a mile off –
was usually having none of it.
As children he would tell us
not to teach our granny to suck eggs,
that most things out of strangers' mouths
were all my eye and Catty Barry,
at best, a load of fanny.
Having an Aunt Fanny
who smoked a pipe –
for the toothache, she confided,
I guess I was prepared to swallow anything.

Moya Roddy’s debut collection Out of the Ordinary was shortlisted for the Shine Strong Award. She has published a novel, The Long Way Home and a collection of short stories Other People.