FINN'S NEW WOMAN.

AN IRISH BOY OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION ABOUT HIS UNCLE'S NEW WOMAN.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have you seen Finn’s new
Woman? O’Brien asked.
Doherty shook his head

 

And sipped his porter. You
Took a mouthful of your
Lemonade and looked on.

 

She’d scare horses, so she
Would, O’Brien added. And
There’s the beginning of a

 

Moustache on her upper lip.
Doherty lowered his glass.
I’ve heard he’s bewitched

 

By the piece of skirt, Donovan
Said he drools over his pint
At the sight of her. O’Brien

 

Looked at you. Don’t you be
Growing up like your Uncle
Finn, young Colin; women

 

Are a species apart; only for
The brave or foolhardy and
Don’t you be telling what

 

You’ve heard to your mammy
Or she’ll be after me like a
Jehovah’s Witness with a Bible.

 

Doherty smiled, lifted his porter
And gave you the gaze. You
Shook your head and muttered,

 

No, you’d not say a word and
Zipped your lips with the fingers
Of your right hand. But I’ve seen

 

Her with him, you said, holding
The lemonade away from your lips,

Holding hands and he kissed her.

 

O’Brien raised his eyebrows.
Kissed her you say; now there’s
A thing. What else did you see,

 

Young Colin? You sipped the
Lemonade. They climbed the
Stairs to his room, her giggling

 

As if she’d been tickled and him
All smiles and teeth like he’d
Won a prize at the fair. Hush

 

Hush, now, O’Brien said, not
Another word. You’ll have him
Tarred and feathered if your

 

Auntie finds out. There was
A silence. Doherty sipped the
Porter and looked away. O’Brien

 

Gazed at you as if you’d farted,
Then gazed at his glass and drew
Heavily on his cigarette. Not

 

Another word of this, Colin,
He said, drink up, go home
And forget. And as you raised

 

Your glass, thinking O’Brien
Harsh, Finn entered the bar with
The woman and mousy moustache.

Reviews

[just rose.]

you did the accent and cadence so well in this, and you traced impeccably that conflict that children have when they're seen and not heard, but don't want to see what they're seeing. funny and touching and well done. reminds me a bit of the first chapter of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, that age and those impressions.

[Terry Collett]

To a degree I am inspired by James Joyce whenever I write my Irish poems & stories. So you were right there, Rose.