Galway Advertiser 2000/2000_01_27/GA_27012000_E1_056.pdf 

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Galway Advertiser January 27 2000

-*4VlTERTAINMENT

THE

STORYTELLER

A F T E R N O O N TEA
A quarter full, half full, full, milk bottles stand in her kitchen brimming with creamy curdles, three teabags float in a cup. Vera sits arid tries to make sense of it, her dress inside out, her cardigan under her dress, next door's flowers in a vase. Dozens of eggs lie rotting in the press, their stink can't help but mingle with the milk that is standing in bottles A quarter full, half full, full. - Nuala Ni Chonchuir.

C L E G G A N

Martin was clasped, her face through his face, his eyes staring out through her lank hair. A voice from the rock haunted rooms ghosts drawn back by memories of black deeds a child drowned in the bog a man hacked to death in the Glebe. He was drawn by the horrors spilling from her mouth her gestures, terror, voice what she did with what she knew Her death tales cobwebs, tomb-light the stake in the heart sent him stumbling into the night He tried to walk, often ran hearing steps, a spectral whinny to separate what was from what was not.

ly sheep and horses for eoi ate smooth stones turquoi jeeps across the sand

- that s the shadow o f the boat running sports football car-racing complaining crabs hiding in pools s till the tide conies in i stuck in the sand

THIRTY

LOSTYEARS

familiarity, melanch packs of youths patrolling territorially the streets and i on the corners

GRIEF
He was afraid to enter but she drew him in. He saw as he had been told two beds perfectly made matching quilts, arowof dolls little coats, dresses. 1 like to stand in here away from things," she whispered, say a Utile prayer for their souls, they were so good always, ask Our Lady to hold them in her arms" Grief stored in a bright room as though keepsakes could hide the loss. He wondered at love's clasp on the years why she danced. Maurice Harmon

Wexford didn't think of me, when my soul was being bruised by another woman's indifference. Leaving by the outer door I stood numb on Dame Street, empty armed and only half alive. The Child of Prague who witnessed his arrival, lies now at the back of the wardrobe with those thirty lost years. But I managed to keep him close to me by dividing his share, love enough for seven was spread among six. - Nuala Ni Chonchuir.
any meaning, all illi

--,
- Sarah Ii

simple p i shopping

THE N O R T H
(Nuala Ni Chonchuir was bom in Dublin and has lived for some years in Galway city. Her poetry has appeared in Books Ireland, The Cuirt Journal, The Burning Bush and Westword as well as Markings. She is a founder-member of 'Garters,' a women's writing group based in Galway. Her work will appear in the anthology. Treasures by the Poets of Ireland.)

M

I Maurice Harmon is a well known Dublin writer and poet, who has published widely in this country and else where)

AT THE

STATION

As the train screeched home to a halt, I furs glimpsed you Through rain-spattered glass. That Friday night you came back. Like droplets of hope On African dust ending drought; Our child's first faltering steps; After days of rain First rays of sun reaching out: A welcoming sign on an untrodden track. That moment you were all of these
(From Ballisnahira, Shrule. Ger Geraghtyj has been writing for some time. This is the first time he has submitted lything for publication.)

Johnston

things:

You were back. - Ger Genghty