Golden Moment, Dublin (redraft)

 

In a Dublin moment more precious
than stones inlaid in engagement rings,

a daughter’s French polished nails
tap H. M. Samuels window, staccato,

she shows a still young mother,
married twenty-five years that ring

she desires. A fortnight ago, a drunken
Northern friend dusted a gold ring

on her blouse, bequeathed by a fiancé.

dead for five years. She recalled the walks

 

they took around the overcast estate,

hand-in-hand; through barriers of tanks

 

and barbed wire; the lullabies

he whispered in her ear throughout Spring

 

and Summer. How a car ran him

off the road at Christmas. The crash

 

stole the sight from her left eye,

leaving only a seamy blood scar

 

and her utter darkness. How she watched

his breathes still; his face pale into death.

Reviews

[Poeticpiers]

sad beyond sadness Sel but the stark truth for so many. A difficult subject to tackle but managed it siccessfully