On Not Being Listened To,
by Medbh McGuckian.
You respect the flowers when they pass
Out of your hands. You hold to words
Because they have been said. You will
Take two days from a fine little chain
And hold them against me , every separate
Thing remembered like the last day
Of the year , mottling it over with
Your feet as a child might snow.
The rain gives the window or its equivalent
An example of pouring on , the sun
In his storing-journeys imagines the early
Farness of nine-in-the morning . One
Quarter of the staircase asks to know
What you have written , within the summer’s
Hearing , on the closed throat of the envelope.
This poem is from On, Ballycastle Beach , by Medbh McGuckian. Gallery Books (Poetry Book Society Recommendation) Publ. 1995.
Chris Murray 