Motorway Man
I want to tell you: I watched you sleep on the side of the road
with your chest held in the fireman’s hands. His face turned
from the traffic slowing down.
Irish Poets
Gonzo
the gonzo mug, the first thing for which i reached
that night when i was twelve and i returned
to the cubicle in the convent i called home
After
Now that her heart is bent over
like larkspur after a storm,
she stays in bed past milking time,
pulling the quilt
tight around her shoulders
until her collie barks her
down the stairs
to lift the backdoor latch.
Portrait of Kevin Barry in The Irish Times
I look at him and I say
There’s a man who’s broken
his nose once or twice
Love! His Affections Do Not That Way Tend …
… unless it was love of the bottle. Word was
he’d drunk the family farm, acre
by acre, till a neighbour took the shell
of the house for a shelter.