Kevin’s Gloves

 

I found

A spider-nest of fingers in a plastic web-

The gloves in the wash-basket

They left in the shed after they left,

After the latest beating of the mother.

Hers are there amongst the load,

long-fingered ,long- wristed,

Elegant black velours

With a leopard-skin -substitute furry trim,

 The feline touch, now derelict grace.

Kevin’s gloves surround hers;

His football gloves,

Black and amber, rarely used,

His cold-weather gloves, of wool ,double -lined ,

His cycling gloves, smooth purple vinyl

Seamed in white for speed, his boxing gloves

For that punch-bag hung from the shed roof-spar

How much practice at hook and jab he had

Is unknown to me. Then there is the monster glove;

Green knobby rubber skin, crooked fingers

Long black pointed finger nails

Tufts of bristling hair on the back of the hand

Behind the knuckles. A  novelty glove, to scare

in fun some playmate, a cousin  or a guest,

or, in vacant rooms, in dream to pantomime

The power of his father.