Letting Go the Light
His aged squeezebox perches upon the mantel shelf
Yellowed smoky buttons now unsung by himself
The leather straps moulding, smells of plug tobacco
Beside photos unfurled with grime
No longer heel and toe on the stone-cold floor
Her blue Mary-Janes now sit behind the door
His everyday crushed, her tapping an echo
A ghost beneath the rafters that dribbles
Brown sweat on his tight spun hours.
He wears a marigold buttonhole
She planted in the Springtime
Those ransomed cleave- red days.
Lilliput Bay- Blue Hour
Blue boat bobs in a backwash
At the blue-hour
The bay a bath of glazed golden water
Holds reflected lit-up things
To the ebbing red light
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Clouds billow near the horizon
Dusk
Without a moon
Extinguishing rays
Soon the birds will cease to sing
will roost in trees
Squirrels will fall sleep.
(Irish poet Margaret Kiernan is 2021 Best of The Net Nominee for Creative Non-Fiction. She writes fiction, non-fiction essay, memoir, and poetry.)
