THE STATUE

'Dying is fun! ' you say
'...once you get the hang of it...'

'...& as long as
the pain stays away! '

Your face says ouch
without saying 'Ouch! '

'It adds an extra spice to life
knowing how many minutes there are left! '

'I calculated it  with my solar power
pocket calculator! '

'It seems like you live it twice
as fast...twice as intense

seeing everything
so precise

seeing even
what's.. not...there! '

The pain laughs at your puny efforts
to control it.

'Doc...says a year(at the most)  
maybe a matter of months...weeks! '

'It depends on what the cancer thinks! '
you laugh.

'And to think I'm a Cancerian! '
The pain has not got your sense of humour.

Already I can see it is bored by you
tries to wipe that grin off your face.

It almost...succeeds.

'Seems like I'm nothing now
but this cancer! '

'It's all that anybody can see! '

'Like it's been rubber stamped
on my forehead or something! '

'Well, Mrs. Cancer...'
I swore I heard the doctor say.

'And, all that my friends can see is...my death! '
'They annoy me with their crying! '

'Hello...hell.. o! I'm not dead yet! '
'This ****** cancer has taken on a life

of it's own

tells me what I can or can't do! '
'It's the boss! '

'Now...that there's a limit to it
Time...is precious
can't bear...to waste a minute.. of it! '

'It feels as if the cancer
is a famous sculptor

& labours to create
the shape of my death

bit
by
bit! '

'Seems like it's one of those
ugly modern abstract statues

you know

meaning nothing
with a hole in the middle! '

'And everyday the cancer
chiseling away at it

striving for perfection! '

'I tell the cancer
Oh...get on with it! '

'Get it over with! '

'See...I'm becoming quite the philosopher! '

'Now...get out of here! '

'Stop talking to a dying woman
get out in the sun don't waste
a min-
-ute
of
it! '

I laugh.

You're still so.. you!

You ask me for a favour
before I go.

I scratch your ***
(you can't reach it no more) .

You tell me
'That's the best scratch in all the world! '

I smile tell you
you always had the best *** in the world.

You laugh.
(It...hurts) .

I go

Close the door behind me
on your dying.

Step into brash sunlight
that feels like it's lying.

Two months later your death greets me
disguised as an airmail letter.

I missed your dying by a week ...it seems
I'm in a different country...crying.

A weak sun
shivers in the land

of the living.

From beyond
Death

you write me
a private letter

with handwriting
I wouldn't recognise as yours.

It just says:

'Donall Donall! '
on the envelope.

Inside
(a card)  

a wood engraving
by Eric Gill

the one with Mary Magdalene
covering a crucified Christ with her body

her hair like a river
covering them both.

The handwriting almost broken
only kept alive by your iron will.

'Guess the statue's done
&
Death is no Michelangelo

could have done better myself
but I wasn’t up to it! '

My tears
dissolving your words.

"..HAVING NEW EYES..."

here, it appeared
the house paused
upon the mountain top

as if to gaze
upon a sunset
and then: move on again

startled to be caught
on the move
or emerging out of mist

as if revealing
the secret that
houses walked

we always laughed
called it
"the ghost that walks"

or the trees
running down the mountain side
to greet us

warmly welcoming us
with outstretched branches
speaking with the wind's voice

a tiny flower curved around
the toe of my boot
a gentle reminder to look...really look

a bell melted into the air
becoming the silence
it had broken

AND THE WORLD WAS AS SIMPLE AS SNOW

You are like. .  .all
the dark shops of my childhood
where you enter with the little ****** of a bell

and the world blossoms

into a myriad of things colourful to sell
stacked in impossible & impeccable order

all yelling shining glinting wild & glassy

and the cash register singing with the hard earned money
and the little ****** of a bell lets you out again

into a world
excited with the falling of  snow

& the palpable approach
of  a Christmas when Christmas was Christmas

and the world
was as simple as snow.

Dónall O'Diomsiagh is anim dom!
( Dónall Dempsey is my name! )

I was born
the weight of a bag of sugar.

2 lbs to be
precise.

That was all there was
to me!

( My belly alas weighs more than that now )!

De Da could
hold me in his fist and

I'd disappear
'cept for the little dangly dancing leggy bits.

I had Elvis sideburns
( I was all shock up )

and entered this
world of ours

feet first
putting my best foot forward

ready to rock
'n" roll...mannn!

Doris Day was singing
CE SERA SERA!

And what, what...do ya think
they called the tiniest baby

. . .ever ever seen?

Why, Dónall!
Dónall...of course!

Dónall meaning WORLD
MIGHTY SPEAR POWER.

And Dempsey itself meaning
THE PROUD ONE!

Ahhh the majesty of the Celtic tongue!

A wrestler's name if ever...
"And in the green corner..."

Or an Ozymandias name. . .
"Look on my works, ye mighty ,and despair!"

De Ma would always spoil it for me:

"WORLDMIGHTYSPEARPOWERTHEPROUDONE! You
get yer *** in here this minute and finish yer homework!"

An awful big name
( to be sure to be sure )

for a little fella to
live up to. . .

Ahhh, but sure I do my best
putting words to the test

wrestling with a rhyme
stealing through your mind.

For I am
( am I not?)

the poet with
the hyperbolic name!

WORLD MIGHTY
SPEAR POWER
THE PROUD ONE!

!IT'S IN HER KISS!

"Arrah..!" she smirks

"Sure, give us a póg
ya auld rogue ya!"

I chuckle at her
Orish-ness.

"S'ea...n'ea?"
her eyes question in Irish.

"Tabhair dom do phóg!"
I challenge her gladly.

And in the kiss
the exchange of bliss

a tiny rolled up note
passes from her mouth to mine.

Her tongue firmly
in my cheek.

Speechless I...
. . .can not speak.

She turns and with a flounce
sashays off

an angel
in dirndl dress.

"Slán leat...mo buachaill!"
thrown over a naked freckled shoulder.

I unroll the tiny tiny scroll
smile at what is written

her telephone number
with several x's beneath

in red indelible ink.

Two tiny tiny eyes
drawn in blue

with one eye closed
in a wink.

*

"...póg..." - a kiss

"S'ea...n'ea?" - "Yes...no?"

"Tabhair dom do phóg!" - "Give me your kiss!"

"Slán leat...mo buachaill!"..."Goodbye...boy!"

THE ONLY THING
(for Barbara & Ray)

Ah, little daughter
the only thing

I can tell you
was that you were made

with love
our love

and that before we
could get to know you

Death: unmade you
& you vanished from our sight.

Ah, little daughter
if only I could tell you

what you would
like to know:

'What was I like? '

And I cry: 'I don't know
...I don't know? '

The only thing
I can tell you

(little daughter...are you listening)      

the only thing I can tell you

was that you were
made

with love

our love

FAST AWAKE

"Nite. .love ?" Reach for the switch
"Nooooo...don't turn the dark on!"
"My dolly's scared!"

"It's no good...I got no sleeps in me!"
"I better get up 'cos
I'm fast awake!"