Glenn Hubbard – 1 poem



They were the last to leave the small island.

It had got too big for them, the circle 

in which they could move tightening around 

their frailty till they spent most of the day 

fretting about the next: anxious and vexed.

He had a line out for rockfish when a

gust near took him off the cliff. She had a

bad fall feeding the hens. No neighbours no

friends. No-one to call on. Him no longer

able for the curragh, its heavy oars.  

Indoors, they spilt milk and could not keep the

fire in, both sitting shivering of a 

morning till the turf caught and they could heat

water for tea, listening to the sea,

the wind whistling in off the Atlantic.

Once or twice something made them panic and

they hastened to embrace to make it go

away. Till one day they both knew: a clear

view of the island from bungalow 

in the village would have to see them through.

The pair of cows were sold, almost too old

now for milking. The hens they gave away.

On the last day they walked clockwise 

around the well three times, reciting the

prayer, commending its care to Mary.

Young Hugh from the pub ferried them over,

the kitchen left to the mice, the walls to

the lichen, the pasture to the brambles.

They sat holding hands. It was the bitter 

wind that brought the tears to their eyes.


Glenn Hubbard lives in Madrid and has been writing poetry since 2013. This year he won the Bangor Literary Journal’s 40 Word Poem competition. The greatest influence on his poetry has been R. F. Langley.

By Heavenly Flower Publishing

Bindweed Magazine publishes two anthologies each year: Midsummer Madness and Winter Wonderland. Bindweed is run as a not for profit, labour of love endeavour by an author/poet couple: Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert. Bindweed can be found at

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