New Skin
by Mel McEvoy
This text will be replaced by the
flash music player.
Pulled by the arm
By a mother's hand
From staring into
A cairn of coals
Burning volcanic colours
Behind a brass fireguard;
From the world of toy-soldiers
Lost in a battle
Down the backs of sofas;
From the dance
Of a father's accent
Telling Irish legends
Of banshees wailing
Through a forest of fairy tales.
Jerked from the skip
Of pavement-flag games
To keep up with the pace
Of other mothers in procession
Towards the iron school railings
Where the maternal crowd gathers
At the end of summers
A mother's grip
In a tight matted clench
Lets the feeling slip
Of her child's hand.
Unknown hands
Quickly descend
Gripping tightly closed
The openness
In fingers and palms.
In the rectangular shaft
Of the iron gate
The padlocks rocks
Swings like a bell
Pealing out
Unheard tunes
Not found in the tones
Of nursery rhymes
At the end of the day
The school gate opens
And releases a runner
Hurrying for home
Past the lollipop man
Within his littered pockets
Among the marbles
And football cards
Awareness escapes through
A hole in the seem of his trousers
The runner stops
And stalls
Checks his pockets
Throws a single
Backward glance
And turns to begin
The long hard run
Through the streets
of compromise.
All rights reserved by the author.
Home
List of poems
Submissions/Contact
us