dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
blank image this is the way home poetry - written and spoken stories and creative writings alternative writings, prose, essays, reportage manifestos, insights, alternative views music mp3 original music eyes to see with movies, flash and animations links - click here to read reviews of our favourite websites click to subscribe to our occasional ezine all about dead drunk dublin info on how to contribute to dead drunk dublin

  < back : index : next >   
 


I   L e a r n

To each new man my mother
Brought with her to her bed,
And there were many
Strung along like beads on a necklace,
She said she loved him.

My father returned from war,
A soldier honored.
He was the only man
To whom she said those words now.
He said he loved her too.

I often wondered whose picture it was
I watched him set light to the other day
And shed his tears in silence.
She seemed to be
pretty enough,
He need not have destroyed her.

I whisper sweet nothings now
In my husband’s ear
Hoping he’ll leave soon.

Maybe I can let
The young man at church
Who made eyes at me yesterday
Into my bed today.

 

[First published in Surface Online, 2003]


to contact the editor, email editor@deaddrunkdublin.com or use our contact form here
all contents copyright © 2000-2009 all rights reserved - The New Media Source Company Ltd, publishers - authors rights are protected

site design by redmoonmedia