Poetry by
Gregory McIntyre

I wouldn’t say no, to a hearth and a home
But pending a pay rise and then some,
I may be content
In this tenement
Squeezed for two thirds my income

I could use, a break to relax
But having just done my income tax,
I may choose to unwind
By crying at work
In the cupboard next to the thumb tacks

At the Opera House (which I think is grouse) I get lost in a reverie
But our leader says
That pride can cool it
That it’s not even
Fresh in our memory

Cathy Cathy, to my window come
Your Heathcliff waits for you
But if perchance
You don’t exist
A substitute will do