I am sixteen, standing outside the GPO in my school uniform, which isn’t ideal. My uniform is the colour of bull’s blood. In this year, I am sixteen, a pleasing symmetry because I love history, have I told you that? It is mine so I carry it in my rucksack. I love all the men … Continue reading ‘Cork Schoolgirl Considers the GPO O’Connell Street, Dublin 2016’ By Victoria Kennefick
Tag: Southword
‘And What We Know About Time’ by Tania Hershman
When it failed to alarm, my father took the clock apart. Laid it all out on the kitchen table. While the dog dreamed and snored, we watched him clean every piece, then, with breaths held, attempt reassembly. It worked perfectly for the next ten years, which was odd, given the sixteen horological components my … Continue reading ‘And What We Know About Time’ by Tania Hershman
‘Afterthought’ by Marie Naughton
Afterthought And what if –– go on, you’ve seen those films –– what if on one particular January morning this man no, this boy, what if, when this boy approaches the main road and reaches in his pocket for his phone he remembers fuckit, the fiver to cover the cost of his DaySaver still on … Continue reading ‘Afterthought’ by Marie Naughton
Three poems by Victoria Kennefick
Rib I have visited your grave many times expecting to find you tending your plot, maybe with a shovel or a strimmer, turning your handsomely-lined face towards the sun. In Kilmahon cemetery, wild garlic excretes a heavy smell. White bonnets bob at your wooden cross, embarrassed to show their faces, roots grown so deep. Reflected … Continue reading Three poems by Victoria Kennefick
Two poems by Nuala Ní Chonchúir
The Lunar Spread On Half Moon Street we eat Tunisian orange cake, under a painting of a melon that spills seeds like love. Over Notre Dame the moon is a plate, tossed by a Greek waiter from rue Hachette. Clear of Galway’s rooftops the full moon – bald as a skull – crowns the … Continue reading Two poems by Nuala Ní Chonchúir
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