Dirge for Unwin

Uncle Unwin
lived unwed,
died unmourned,
our tears unshed,
his chin unshaved,
his soul unsaved,
his feet unwashed,
his cat unfed,

uncouth, unkempt,
no cuff unfrayed,
his floor unswept,
his bed unmade,
unkind to us,
the undertaker’s
bill unpaid

his will,
found undercover,
left untold wealth
to an unknown lover.
It’s so unfair.
We were unaware:
even nobodies count
on one another.

Copyright: from The All-Nite Cafe (Faber, 1993), © Philip Gross 1993, used by permission of the author.

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Philip writes brilliantly imaginative poetry about places, people and subjects which at first seem ordinary but which he reveals to be ...

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About Dirge for Unwin

This is a completely negative sort of poem. Or is it.

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