14 November, 2016Issue 32.1Original Poetry

Email This Article Print This Article

Three Poems

 

Kevin Cahill

City Flowers

What bombshells of slight
feather-like
pattings on the keypad
cross our Republic
like murderers:
horned caps, ur-speak,
fists of mail
phishing across our regions
in a raging typeface.

Forwards and backwards,
blog-like, undead cities
simmer in a zinging
ping-storm of bullets –
punching us up
with their spreadsheets.

Everything tuts about us,
looks a bit cold. Cut-off,
convent-cowled magnolia pray in their boxes,
under a broken nose
of sepal: there in the plastic

erect a streetlit piece
of nature: streetwise plants
in little doggèd pots…
gamboling with God-like,
Adam-and-maiden-like colour
beside our dim task bar.

 

Doomsday

After the Great Flood of Cork, 2009

Here in Cork, as in Phi Phi, we brighten
our puddle with bikinis. Our death-toll
passes like a cloud.

Above us, the sun’s boozed-up barcarole
communes with the mouthy swimmers
bathing street by street.

The day after this is not written
but on TV people clear buddies and refuse
out of their houses,
fix the plasma-screens, people carriers,
scrub down the walls
and toss their Spot
into an unoffended dustbin.                                             .

The clerical collar of ring roads
whitens after impact, as life
freshens into petrol; the world
dancing with another man
who trundles her on
past anyone’s guessing.

 

Boy Strangling a Goose

is all I remember from the apostolic alleyways
and monumental crumb of that city.
The arms astride her flabbergasted abdomen
ruining her feathers. The boy
grabbing that whooping bird
just like the boneshakers we gripped
a long time ago
in all innocence. Handlebars
we bent into provinces
fifty odd degrees North –
sandalled, helmeted, pedalling into ghettos
and across streams
as we flirted with earth and its Rhines, and Danubes,
there for the taking.
Our love for the glory
that was impossible to master, until mastered,
for something in us too was pillaged:
and the goose won us over
and all of Christendom said Wicked.

Kevin Cahill is graduated from University College, Cork. After working for the European Commission and as an academic librarian, he is now a full-time writer.

Be Sociable, Share!