The Repossessor, a poem by Chris McCabe

The Repossessor is a single-voice narrative poem by Chris McCabe, printed in issue 31 of The Wolf. Its central figure is a man who takes possession of goods from people in debt. He sits in the chair once held by a figure called the Chief, while an ageing dog, nearly deaf and blind, lies beside him and the room fills with the signs of a household in decline.

Much of the poem works by cataloguing. The Repossessor knows the local streets, markets and bookmakers, and can tell by instinct who is bereaved, divorced or behind with payments. He reads the neighbourhood in terms of cash, taxis and supermarkets, and the poem suggests that knowing the names of things carries a person further than inventing a name for something new.

Midway the poem turns inward and the inventory becomes personal. A long list of belongings follows, among them homemade wine left to ferment, plastic model aircraft in the grass, a bath filled with snow, a board game with no winner, video stills and stink bombs under bunk beds. These are the things the Repossessor mentally prices, and they add up to a childhood.

The poem ends on a small moment of embarrassment, a muttered oath, and the market announcing itself to the room. A reader interested in contemporary British poetry about money, class and memory will find a compact example of McCabe's style. Only poem titles and subject are described here.

Work

The Repossessor

Author

Chris McCabe

Poems in this selection

• The Repossessor