Poem, Poetry

Eugene O’Hare


today i stole a chicken from Tesco.
the security guy was fiddling with his mask
when i stuffed the bird under my t-shirt
& pretended i was pregnant.
a painter saw me steal the chicken.
there were flecks of orange and green
all over his hands and sleeves.
he was buying wine. perhaps he will neck
the whole bottle as he looks at his picture
of a sunset disappearing beyond a green hill.

when i serve the chicken to my daughter
she eats it with small but miraculous hands.
no meat is spared. our home is a place of worry;
the cupboards are bare and the walls are pale
as mourners at a wake. if i see that painter again
i will tell him to cover my walls in thick
lemon slathers of oily suns and to plaster
my bedroom in scenes of feast and romance.

Eugene O’Hare was born in Ireland. His plays are published by Methuen. He is working towards his first collection of poetry. His first two published poems appeared in The Galway Review in March, then as a featured news piece in The Irish News. More poems will appear in magazines in 2021 including Fortnight and Crossways.

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