Last
Call
I
The auld lad’s still sitting
there, arms spread, broadsheet between and
Ma goes by screaming ‘Jesus, Mary
and Joseph, the iron’s still on!’
Horsed clothes, creased as da’s
Irish Times, waiting to be pressed and folded
In just a year they’ve greyed,
steps a fraction slower
Only a few words at dinner
Quietly loaded
Palpable
II
Finally a decent pint of black
and I almost forget the settle
Dark brown thunder rolling under
white cloud
Old friendships, hard fought,
fingers gripped around a neck
Stout stained lips shouting and
balling ‘Any young ones?’
And sure you make something up
for the tale of it
These two are having a baby
She’s off in England
Him?
Sure he went off the bridge
III
Then the light fades away and
comes back
I haven’t been here in a year
The light fades away and comes
back
A feeling as if I’d never left
The light fades away and comes
back
One last chance
Fades away and comes back
Fades away and comes back
No comments:
Post a Comment