To rescue Kahlo from the clutches of the corporate art market, we need to acknowledge the overt and covert political dimensions of the work, demands GAVIN O’TOOLE
Helen, astride her skewbald pony,
smut-faced, riding bare-back,
collecting sea coal in threadbare sacks
while her brothers watch from the herring shed,
eyes narrowed against outsiders
as they wait for the turn of the tide
forty years ago.
The Raven brothers with a broken barrow,
tow-haired angels with hands soot-black,
stalking Joe’s wagon through the town,
collecting scattered nuggets and snips of slack,
not daring to head back home
without enough for the stove.
Paddy French when the mine closed down,
Pete when the Canny Lass was scrapped,
believing — for a while — in promised jobs,
shirt cuffs concealing their tattooed past.
But all eyes have narrowed against the future
now that the tide has turned.
ALAN MORRISON recommends a consummate, heart-warming collection about a working-class upbringing in the industrial north-east
ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event
by Christopher Norris
by Widad Nabi


