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Apprentice
by Frankie Quinn
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I stood and watched him hit the nail
Each strike precise as a marksman’s shot,
He’d take my hand, his rough leathery skin
Guide my trembling fingers.
He’d drum, drum, drum along a stud wall,
Hearing changing note he’d nod
I’d drive the nail home.
I’d smile, he’d say:
Carry on now.
I’d never master that sound.
He was like a harpist tuning fine strings,
His ear caught every note
While I stood driving nails in air.
These days, his thumb nails blackened,
His fingers tremble holding a delft cup.
Frankie Quinn is a former political prisoner who served 14 years in the H Blocks and other prisons. He now runs an ex-prisoners’ centre in Dungannon Co Tyrone. Apprentice is taken from his collection Open Gates (Colmcille Press, 2021).
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