Ash Boughs

So, Jack, tell me;
What day is it?
And, now, the month?
Good man, what year?
The year stumped me.

John Wilson died
tying his lace
in nineteen thirty five,
a market day.

Does he live alone?

James Talbot choked
on a small carrot
in nineteen forty one,
straight after Mass.

———Beyond the dusk,
———ash boughs brush lit windows.

Cavan beat Kerry
in the Gaelic Grounds
in nineteen forty seven –
lost by four points.

Is he suicidal?

Offaly stopped
the five in a row
in nineteen eighty two –
last minute goal.

Violent at all?

I am the subject
of other’s interest.
I have lost interest.
I am eighty seven.
I am weary; I am lonely.
I tire of looking
through life’s empty panes,
counting the years.
My pastime now
————————————————-the years that count.

Mike Gallagher, an Irish writer, poet and editor, worked in London for forty years. His prose, poetry, haiku and songs have been published throughout Europe, America, Australia, Nepal, India, Thailand, Japan and Canada. His writing has been translated into Croatian, Japanese, Dutch, German, Italian and Chinese.

He won the Michael Hartnett Viva Voce competition in 2010 and 2016, was shortlisted for the Hennessy Award in 2011 and won the Desmond O’Grady International Poetry Contest in 2012.

His poetry collection Stick on Stone was published by Revival Press in 2013.

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