Highlight Poem by Tomas De Faoite

When I am back home I compress years away
into four weeks. I highlight my land
Of birth, replaying it until no one has died.
They are all still alive. And Peggy down the road
is at her gate, and she is laughing
When I tell her I was married, but am now divorced.
She does not believe me and is
Always harping on at me, you should get married.
But I was married. She laughs her hearty laugh.
I cannot prove anything to anyone; the dead
Especially. And there is Peter; blackheads
Swarming on his nose like flies, hobbling about
On his two artificial hips, saying, I am beat.
No you're not; you're dead and as Beckett says,
Slightly bending his words, better than the whole lot.
Look at them there, a brief unencounter; my mother
Pushing money into my hand and a miraculous
Medal into my jacket pocket, saying, eat better
And work hard. And there is Peggy and Peter--
Peggy taking her glasses off to see me away.

©2013 Tomás De Faoite