Colm Flanagan

And live in the mornings
While the seasons project themselves
On to the panes of Billy’s windows.
I want to walk downstairs
...

If your love was the rainfall
I’d fling my umbrella,
Kick off my galoshes
And sail my sow ester
...

Thou truly art a prince amongst pavement prowlers
The duke of the display rack
The archbishop of affordability.
...

O Marilyn Marilyn
Be my movie star
My honey sweet
Happy birthday singer.
...

Spilling out like a rug,
the morning scatters amongst
the scrub of La Martiniere.
Bleaching each blade,
...

I’ll tell ya wadda want
Wadda really really want.

I wanna’ play the poet
...

Is it the wind on your limbs like warm laundered linen,
the fields of corn that crowds and wave,
or the bubble and simmer of the children’s voices-
above the hush and swish of the tree top breeze?
...

Before dawn and all is still,
More motionless against the slow film
of the thin clouded sky.
A dog bark from the valley below
...

Your brightening smile is all I ask
Whenever I return to you.
There is no darkness that can mask
Your brightening smile, it’s all I ask.
...

In the kitchen
he does not see
his wife crouched
in her creased leather chair,
...