Gedicht
Mary O’Donoghue
MY DAUGHTER IN WINTER COSTUME
MY DAUGHTER IN WINTER COSTUME
MY DAUGHTER IN WINTER COSTUME
She is sealed like a bomb in her anorak.Her face is flushed fruit under the hood.
She’s already moving away. I want to call her back.
At nine in the morning the sky is blue-black.
I think of hard falls, split lips, her blood.
But she’s sealed like a bomb in her anorak,
and shouting to friends on the tarmac,
a yardful of children, a tide, a flood
already moving away. I want to call her back,
I’m faint, suddenly starved with the lack
of her, and determined that she should
know, all sealed like a bomb in her anorak.
Grip the wheel. Radio on. The yakety-yak
of today’s talking heads on How to Be Good.
The morning is moving away. I want to call her back.
This is what it’s like to be left slack,
the cord frayed like I knew it would.
She is sealed like a bomb in her anorak,
already moved away, and I can’t call her back.
© 2011, Mary O\'Donoghue
From: Shine On: Irish Writers for Shine
Publisher: Dedalus Press, Dublin
From: Shine On: Irish Writers for Shine
Publisher: Dedalus Press, Dublin
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MY DAUGHTER IN WINTER COSTUME
She is sealed like a bomb in her anorak.Her face is flushed fruit under the hood.
She’s already moving away. I want to call her back.
At nine in the morning the sky is blue-black.
I think of hard falls, split lips, her blood.
But she’s sealed like a bomb in her anorak,
and shouting to friends on the tarmac,
a yardful of children, a tide, a flood
already moving away. I want to call her back,
I’m faint, suddenly starved with the lack
of her, and determined that she should
know, all sealed like a bomb in her anorak.
Grip the wheel. Radio on. The yakety-yak
of today’s talking heads on How to Be Good.
The morning is moving away. I want to call her back.
This is what it’s like to be left slack,
the cord frayed like I knew it would.
She is sealed like a bomb in her anorak,
already moved away, and I can’t call her back.
From: Shine On: Irish Writers for Shine
MY DAUGHTER IN WINTER COSTUME
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