<\/p>\n
Asbestos<\/strong><\/p>\n Sure he smoked, but it was the asbestos We had him cremated, he went the way <\/p>\n Richie McCaffery<\/strong> was born in Newcastle in 1986 and now lives in Ghent He is the recipient of a Carnegie scholarship as well as the recipient of an Arts Trust of Scotland \u2018Edwin Morgan travel bursary\u2019 and a Hawthornden fellowship. HappenStance Press published his first collection Spinning Plates<\/em>,<\/a> in 2012, his most recent collection Cairn<\/em><\/a> is from Nine Arches Press.\u00a0 His poems have also been anthologised in Todd Swift\u2019s Lung Jazz: Young British Poets for Oxfam <\/em>and Salt\u2019s Best British Poetry 2012, <\/em>edited by Sasha Dugdale.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Asbestos Sure he smoked, but it was the asbestos that killed him. The men in suits came to remind us that back then the stuff was in everything and not to even think about pinning it on them. We had him cremated, he went the way of the coal he\u2019d spent most of his […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12530","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12530","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12530"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12530\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13344,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12530\/revisions\/13344"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12530"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12530"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12530"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nthat killed him. The men in suits came
\nto remind us that back then the stuff
\nwas in everything and not to even think
\nabout pinning it on them.<\/p>\n
\nof the coal he\u2019d spent most of his life
\ndigging for. Funny to think the only
\nthings that didn\u2019t burn were those fibres
\nin his lungs that had killed him.
\n <\/p>\n