A Closing Scene Poem by Gerard Smyth

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet

I see her walking now - Patrick Kavanagh





After the Bunuel film

they walked in the half-glow of sodium light.

It wasn't Sunday but a Sunday hush followed them

through backstreets, black lanes where old trades



were at the end of their time

and a music hall entrance long ago had a sign

that read: "No skirt-hoops and no swords.

Standing room only for the Hallelujah Chorus".



Above the inner city steeple

the multiplying gulls were peeking

to see who was slouching down Lord Edward Street

or taking shelter behind the cathedral.



On Ormond Quay they quickened their steps,

finding their way among the shifty spectres

of Vikings and Insurrectionists -



ghosts who appeared on ground

where a treasure hunt would yield antiquities, the past

or traces of it in broken bits.