it’s a dark pencil skirt and she’s the first
girl in Dublin to get one from Madame
Nora’s of O’Connell Street with a crisp
white blouse and the sheen of fine silk stockings
black patent stilettos tossed on the grass
she leans back slender legs curled up and crossed
at the ankle yet one hip tilted towards
the camera right arm stretched above her head
some kind of flower a daisy I guess
in the other hand a half-smile playing
on her lips that glint of mirth in her eyes
the cloud of blonde hair gleaming in the sun
a first date but no they’ve known each other
longer than that still far too smartly dressed
to go walking in the country though grand
for a stroll in the park perhaps tempted
by a lush meadow to kick off her shoes stretch
out while my father steadies the camera
to frame her reclined figure as she smiles
those eyes luminous with the same vital
beam she fixes on me not long before
they decide to take her off the fluids
and she tells me that I mustn’t forget
to clean the fridge the very sparkle
you’d have once thought would be immortal
Liz McSkeane is a poet, fiction writer and publisher, winner of the Hennessy New Irish Writer of the Year for her poetry and the Irish Writers’ Centre Novel Fair for her historical novel Canticle. She has published four poetry collections, one novel and a collection of short stories. She is founder and director of Turas Press.
girl in Dublin to get one from Madame
Nora’s of O’Connell Street with a crisp
white blouse and the sheen of fine silk stockings
black patent stilettos tossed on the grass
she leans back slender legs curled up and crossed
at the ankle yet one hip tilted towards
the camera right arm stretched above her head
some kind of flower a daisy I guess
in the other hand a half-smile playing
on her lips that glint of mirth in her eyes
the cloud of blonde hair gleaming in the sun
a first date but no they’ve known each other
longer than that still far too smartly dressed
to go walking in the country though grand
for a stroll in the park perhaps tempted
by a lush meadow to kick off her shoes stretch
out while my father steadies the camera
to frame her reclined figure as she smiles
those eyes luminous with the same vital
beam she fixes on me not long before
they decide to take her off the fluids
and she tells me that I mustn’t forget
to clean the fridge the very sparkle
you’d have once thought would be immortal
Liz McSkeane is a poet, fiction writer and publisher, winner of the Hennessy New Irish Writer of the Year for her poetry and the Irish Writers’ Centre Novel Fair for her historical novel Canticle. She has published four poetry collections, one novel and a collection of short stories. She is founder and director of Turas Press.