The Heir Apparent Poem by Dónall Dempsey

Packed pub.

All the usual customers
& more.

My politician uncle
entertaining the then Prime Minster

gentle gentleman Jack
pipe in mouth
(calm personified)
being backslapped…good man Jacked and handshaked
to death.

My pretty little cousin
(famous to herself)
frowns

totally immune
to the charm
of the great man

stops the proceedings
in their tracks:

“Daddy...”
she announces
(not fazed in the least) .

“Yes, love...? ”
Uncle Paddy
beams with pride.

“When you are dead
...will all this be mine? ”


She’s drowned
in laughter

picked up
& petted…feted.

The great man
reduced to a great guffaw.

This...the highlight
of his visit

a child’s wantonness
& innocence.