Terence Dooley

The Factory

Terence Dooley

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The first of ten apartments go on sale

in The Old Workhouse. Marketed as shells,

each has an island fitted and a power

shower. The kerb-appeal is rust and grime,

bars in the windows set so high that all

that anyone can see is sky, white sky

with specks in it that might be birds of prey,

and over all the patina of time.


When we broke a plate, a cup, a vase of yours,

your lamentations were so loud, almost,

as to be overheard by the neighbours,

the screams, the slaps, the threat of the workhouse.

We lived in its shadow, by the orphanage,

the gaol, the madhouse, and the abattoir.



Terence Dooley


Recently I've had poems and translations accepted or published in Abridged, Acumen, Agenda, Ambit, Brittle Star, The Compass, Dream Catcher, Envoi, The High Window, The London Magazine, Long Poem Magazine, Poetry London, New Walk, POEM, The Frogmore Papers, Envoi, MPT,  Shearsman, Tears in the Fence, The Interpreter’s House,  Ink Sweat & Tears, and el cuaderno, Turia and Quimera (Spain).

My pamphlet, The Why of it, has just been published by The Argent Press and is also to be published in Spain in a bilingual edition, and my translation of Eduardo Moga’s Selected Poems will be out in April with Shearsman Books.