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Donall Dempsey
Poems
Jan 2023
AND THE WAY UP IS THE WAY DOWN
AND THE WAY UP IS THE WAY DOWN
"Footfalls echo in the memory..."
I still see you
in the rose garden
reciting Elliot in
those magnificent tones
although death
gently erases you
so that the roses
can be seen
through you
though your voice remains
true and strong
a swallow flies
through your eyes
you nothing now
but a ghostly aid
to my faltering memory.
I still miss your body
the shape of you
sleeping beside me
curled like a question mark
into my dreaming
back.
Never got used to
an empty bed.
Find I have to imagine you
conjure you up.
A sleight of mind
the smoke and mirrors
of desire
and wanting.
I prune my roses
"the poet's wife."
How we always laughed
at such a name
when you could never
write a word
only quote
your adored Mr. Elliot.
I prune
a rose that rambles
and oh dear
I appear
to have snipped off
your head
fading as it was
I will imagine another.
Your voice impervious
to theΒ Β secateurs.
"...for the leaves were full
of children..."
the children we
never had.
We lived our life
as if we had a wisdom
of our own
knowing
"If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable."
Written by
Donall Dempsey
Guildford
(Guildford)
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105
Caroline Shank
,
Crow
and
Bardo
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