Margaret Kiernan

I rush to leave the city in March 2020

People stop
wait to cross at streetlights
I watch
see an amateur- drama notice
stuck on a pole
advert for a suburban Play
I resist its thrall
eagerly refuse to embrace
amateur dramatics as
my head can rust
It could make grim hearing
have me reap apathy
like rivers carrying paper boxes
coffee cups
plastic virgin statues
neither valuable nor rare
A home-less man in a long
designer coat
rants-aloud at the river
while below
a water-logged baby stroller
acts as a sieve
Darkness is arriving as
the man eats stale bread
pitches some to the missing pigeons
while train tracks become animated
under streetlights
houses shaped out
scoped against
the twilight
sycamore leaves splash
against my face
there is news of plague

A tunnel of long shadow
pulls me forward as the
idling train in the station hoots
harried seagulls dip and dive
it is time to go
time to get out
to move on
follow my shadow

Margaret is currently a Nominee for Best of The Net, 2021 in creative non-fiction. She writes poetry and prose and is published in both. Margaret is in the Index of Contemporary Women Poets in Ireland, 2020.



%d bloggers like this: