Imagine a cloth more ample than the one
A mother puts on bread to slow it cooling,
Would spread over a whole floor to bring up
It’s face as clear as the features of the cake.
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A print that can be lifted up to the light,
Read for traces of people who’d come
To sit on chairs that bit into the floor -
One off signatures that give an inkling
Into a place beyond the reaches of the plot
Of ground and story line that we are given.
A fait accompli unless that some thing un -
Expected dawns on us ; that one hand begin
To beat against a ghostly other, sounding
Out the rhythm of it’s own particular call.
Eugene O’Connell
Eugene O’Connell has published two collections of poems, One Clear Call and
Diviner and is Editor of the Cork Literary Review
