Friday 8 February 2019


Northern Ireland circa 1962

Pagni's wife would jiggle and shuffle the bag
as she added salt and vinegar
like sand sifting, boulders shifting
invisibly towards landslide.

I ate from the sodden bottom of the pack
as I stood at the corner of the Square
watching cats in McAleer's basement window

Overshadowed by the stolid Ulster Bank
and further back the Royal Ulster Constabulary
and higher still the razed ground of O'Neill's Castle
where rain clouds were once again gathering.

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2019

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