Nostalgia

This one has just shown up in the latest Poetry Ireland Review. I say ‘shown up’ because I hadn’t heard it had been accepted. The premise – worked through in various drafts – was a vivid memory of a coffin factory in my home town of Newtownards Co Down, but actually not trusting the memory at all.

Then not long ago, after I’d started the poem and taken it down the road of exploring an imaginary ‘memory’, I had reason to revisit the town and drove past the place. (I later found oput my father worked there for a week as a youth.)

Anyway, this one’s dedicated to the man – boy, then – who first pointed the place out to me. Cheers, Mike…

Nostalgia
for Michael Pinnons

Have I invented, or do I remember, stumbling
on the coffin factory? How sunlight
glared on its threshold but went no further,

how boards were stacked against one wall,
and against another, coffins, lidless
and unvarnished, stood like open wardrobes.

A circular saw buzzed, and smithereens
of sawdust tumbled into the street.
And I could be wrong, but I remember

a resinous bright smell of wood, and glue,
and a man carrying wood in shadow
through that windowless shed, whistling.

Advertisements

About Martin Mooney

Author of four collections of poetry - Grub (1993), Rasputin and his Children (2000), Blue Lamp Disco (2003) and The Resurrection of the Body at Killysuggen (2011.)
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s