Patrick McGuinness Biography

In memory of my father, and in welcome to my son

In the wings there is one who waits to go on,
and another, his scene run, who waits to go.
...

One afternoon we watched a programme on near-death
experiences: a woman tunnelled back through life

to what came after, and was reluctant
to return, since her life paled beside the white place
...

Caesarean state:
every roadsign a mirror
every town a suburb
...

Another of your letters, Cilea, and the paper goes
for weeks in my pocket, folded, unfolded, becomes soft as cotton
as the words fade and have to be guessed at;
or, better still, replaced with words I wish you'd written,
...

An ordinary day at work, except that it's your last:
the pull of the new job, the new house . . . you've only been half-here,
living out of suitcases - sometimes with me, sometimes
with the husband who does not know I borrowed you.
...