 |
Jane Bailey
Jane was born in Belfast. Self-imposed exile to the seaside provided inspiration for some of the poetry on this site. She reads regularly at the Arcadia Cafe, North Street Arcade, Belfast.
|
|
Wake by Jane Bailey
|
The black shirt still smells of the priest.
Stewed tea and barm brack paid for
With benedictions in a foreign language.
Tutting clocks at funeral mass
And us all, hoping for the proof of your promise.
Where's the everlasting life you preached,
For thirty years?
Which cheek should I turn, now that all
I had, has been washed away?
|
|
|
What do you think of this piece? Email getwritingni@bbc.co.uk
Please enclose the title of the work and the name of the author. The 麻豆官网首页入口 will display as many of the comments as possible on the page of commented work but we cannot guarantee to display all comments.
|
|
 |
|
|
|
