‘Cork Schoolgirl Considers the GPO O’Connell Street, Dublin 2016’ By Victoria Kennefick

Cork Schoolgirl Considers the GPO O’Connell Street, Dublin 2016 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 of … Continue reading ‘Cork Schoolgirl Considers the GPO O’Connell Street, Dublin 2016’ By Victoria Kennefick

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 in the bronze plaque, my borrowed face, my something blue. … Continue reading Three poems by Victoria Kennefick