Though the re a re no doors between them a nd me, perhaps
They will risk making love like emba rrassed parents
While I rema in motionless on my creaking diva n.
They have shown me a coppe rhead, indi a n fire pinks
And buzzards like mobiles where the sto rm clouds ha ng.
I mi ght as well be outside in the steamy fi eld
Inte rruptin g aga in the opossums' courtship ,
Pa ral ys ing with torchli ght pink noses, naked ta ils
Just beyond the shithouse where, like a fall of snow,
The equalising lime has covered our excrement.
T omorrow when we pass the Penteco ·ta l church
The wayside pulpit will read "Tha nks, Lord , for the ra in ."
Medbh McGuckian
YEASTLIGHT
You speak like the rain, as if you were the weather.
I can almost see the passage of wine through your throa t
As you swallow , its colour seems to be standing
Behind you, in the designer blue a ir. When I found
In
the ve ry cup of the town those poems sewn
Into cushi ons, or pu shed into saucepans or shoes,
I took the a rm of someo ne I didn't know
Who turned over all my mattresses
And shook out every book .
I could not have imagined pearl s had such warmth ,
M y house planned to catch the sun in all
Its rooms, in the shape of a fan, seemed no bett e r
Than ot her houses; its clear note had gone out
And fall en in with the wind which sometimes
Sounds so much like ra in , the passing
Of wise hands over shoulde rs, the frisking
Of clothing that remoulds you a nd res tra in you,
Back into the na rrow bed o f a girl.
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