Monday, May 30, 2016

#149 Kevin Brophy 'Found:'

#149 ‘Found:’
a green and yellow jewel beetle
asleep on the ground,
a Fantale still in its wrapper,
words in chalk on a gutter,
an eyeless origami frog,
a book that began with once
and ended with after,
a crow looking at the ground,
a boy shouldering despair,
a girl prickling with swagger,
a fresh whole meal crust
on the ground,
ten deflated footballs,
two young men cutting through the school,
and the question, what does a goonie do?,
a sentence in an interview,
I am in a graveyard at the moment,
a woman who said she can drive
each day
for a few moments only,
a boy giving the slices of banana
from his sandwich to a girl, surprised,
and those two young men cutting through,
one of them carried a long white staff
as if it was a sword,
the sun splashing down in a pastel sea
of adoring clouds, without a word,
a girl fishing through a box of prizes,
and another girl discussing consequences
with the Principal,
all this given richly, freely, godlessly,
all this torn from a larger more difficult drama,
all this and the graveyard too, and the young men
in football jumpers cutting through
on their way through this poem’s last breath

as it holds up a brief hand to them in passing.

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