Monday 25 September 2017

A supermarket in County Derry (after Allen Ginsberg)

New Irish Writing - Poetry

I am stalking you, Seamus Heaney, as you look

over the potatoes turnips cabbage

now shipped in from here and there

innocent of local soil or the spading of your father

You are not surprised to find pomegranates

(nobel laureates travel)

but do you miss the modesty of vegetables

in a wooden box on a concrete floor?

You walk the polished lanes

smile at old neighbours

take down a tin of carrots

silver it with your imagination

I leave you there to go home to my desk

lean into your lines

fork over the soil

in search of my own

Irish Independent

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