Saturday, February 4, 2012

“Shaky Paddy” © Mike Absalom January 1st 2012.

On New Year’s Day in the
when Jumbo jets come tumbling
over Knock
scribbling their graffiti on
the thin clean air,
and the brass harp knocker
raps in the wind
like an unexpected guest at
my door,
I am afraid.
I am afraid of Shaky Paddy

On New Year’s Day in the
I am afraid,
as I take my walk beneath a
sky now scrubbed blue.
I can see sloes peering from
the bushes
like black eyes after a party
and pieces of rainbow, caught
on thorns,
dangle limply pretending to
be litter.
Perhaps they are litter.
Shaky Paddy has been here.

On New Year’s Day in the
I am afraid.
Last night I could hear those
green rumours
that infest your dreams like
feeding on your sap in the
Now you feel dried up to
and that sharp thing that
lies between us
like a broken wine glass in
the bed
will not let me sleep.
I am afraid
Shaky Paddy has come to stay.

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