Ross Wilson was raised in Kelty, a former mining town in West Fife. His short stories and poems
have appeared in many magazines and anthologies. A former national schoolboy boxing champion,
he has worked in warehouses, factories, hotels, kitchens and elsewhere.
This collection marks the emergence of a refreshing voice in poetry. He writes with honesty,
insight, and emotional involvement.
40pp £5 plus postage ISBN: 978-1-902629-48-3
To order a copy go to the Catalogue page.
Sample poem
THE WAY JOHN WENT OUT
In memory of John Gray
I had you in my corner a few years,
talking me into, and through pain.
Weekends, you’d take me into
Edinburgh and Glasgow to train;
mid-week, we worked out in Rosyth.
Days in-between, I ran alone.
We were about the same height then:
Five three, flyweights. I, fourteen, all bone,
you, a trim forty, fitter than anyone
in the gym, until I caught up, like time
caught us, six years later.
A six foot welterweight that day
we met, books tucked under what had been
a left hook, specs on a never broken nose.
I was awoken that day
like a brawler too clumsy to duck
the surprise counter of your news.
The best punches come from nowhere.
This one hit before we could begin.
A doctor stepped between us, waving it all off;
a timekeeper beat the slow count out of days
before a bell could ring.
And it was a daze to stumble into,
like those nights when I’d run alone
in the dark of a wood, no stool to rest on,
and no voice in the corner where I once stood
tired and bloodied with your hand
flying my hand like the kite
we were both high as, walking
down the steps of Meadowbank Stadium, 1993.
You came in with nothing,
you said to me, you went out a champion.