The day my youngest son came into the world - An lá a tháinig mo mhac is óige ar an tSaol - 18-11-2002
0420 and she taps me on the shouldera tap no God could make
drilling through my synapses
my sternum and coccyx
my epigenetic codex
a gap there is a gap
absence of low thump
the regular knocks
my backbone has been divining
for these past nine months
taxi by the time my eyes are awake
the driver wary, respectful
as a dam bursts across the Liffey valley
eas, foinse, fuarán, gush
a cuid uisce fágtha ar urlár an chairr
pools of becoming
in the footwells
no one saying nothing
muid ag caint go híseal
loch an linbh
tá sé/sí ar a bhealach
urgent silent speech
an uncomprehending driver
understanding everything
who says we cannot mind read?
slewed into the hospital space
still he said nothing
would not take recompense
wished us luck and may God bless
now the tom-tom staccato from the monitor
fading almost to death
sucking the very stars
then rushing to new crescendos
she contrary
like all women in this regal moment
air gas no not that
water no I don’t want water
uisce dúirt me
cuir sin ar shúil uaim
tabhair dom sin
dive again
three women
Mother, Fiona and Anne Marie
strong, labouring
bare arms akimbo
all else extraneous
a train of doctors coats and clip files go by
are ignored
Mná Glúin we say
Knee Women
waiting, tapping,
flowing around each other
hands always returning to the knee
like they own the patent
heads cocked to their rhythm of hearts
sounding the depths of their moon gravity
now is as quiet as Pluto,
fierce as Mercury
how can we breath red air
bereft of oxygen?
few words spoken
but now good girl
and all time is spat
and scrios dearg
and fuck that
then
good girl yourself
Ah a good sturdy boy!
They ask a name
but from the bed
came a shout and a rousing wail
It could only be Eoghan John Shéimí
Céad míle fáilte is fiche
@ Paul Larkin
Carraic 18- Samhain/Nov-12