DAD

DAD

On a freezing day
In April of the fluffy lambs
(Always your favourite month)
I kiss your pale, white face
So still
And oh, so cold.
Alabaster and marble.
A silly cake frill round your neck
A cushion under your dead head
You wear your best black suit,
As if God or the angels care.

Serene now
Unwrinkled brow
The worries gone,
I suppose.

Full of magic and stories
Bring yourself back
Why don't you?
I am full of screaming in my head.

The men with the Prefects and Anglias
That you repaired
File in to say goodbye
And thank you for fixing
Their mucky farmers' cars.
They weep and shake my hand.
I cannot cry.

You
Who wept on reading
John Clare's poems,
Who sang with the sad clown and divas,
Who peopled our childish lives
With fairies, goblins and elves,
Who crouched down
With your deaf ear pressed to the wireless
To better hear Micheal O'Hehir
On a summer Sunday,
And leapt with joy
When Tipperary scored
Or raged
When Christy fouled.

Are no more.

They put you in the dampness
All alone
And cover you with earth.
I cannot say goodbye.