Paul Durcan

(1944 / Dublin)

The Head Transplant

The doctor said to me: Your father needs a new head. So I said to the doctor: You can give him my head.

My days were numbered - broken marriage, cancer, False teeth, bad dreams- so 'Yes' was his answer.

Now I lie in my bed wondering away in my head What will my father look like with his new head?

Will he look like a bull with the head of a daffodil

Or like a nonagenarian pontiff with the head of a harlot?

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