' ' ' ' ' The Smell Of Sausages(For Helen) Poem by Dónall Dempsey

I floated
to the ceiling

& stuck there
like a Christmas balloon

then I slowly
drifted

through the open window

startling
a passing starling

amazed at a human
invading his space.

There was a silly smile
on my face.

My other body
lay on the bed

wrestling with a temperature
of 103 degrees.

There was I
& there was me

both of
us

in this
together.

I swimming
through the air

getting caught
in the gossamer

strands of bird song

clinging on to me
like cobwebs

while the real me
who appeared to be really ill
burned
alive

in
himself.

The smell of sausages
ran up the stairs

as I faded
into a wallpaper rose

dissipated
like a ghost

amongst
the dust motes

crying for the coolness
of my big sister’s flannelled hand.