Poem of the Week

viii

As one when the month is young sees a new moon

Fading into daytime, again it is her face

At the dormer window, her hurt still new.

My look behind me hurried as I unlock,

Switch on, rev up, pull out and drive away

In the car she'll not have taken her eyes off,

The brakelights flicker-flushing at the corner

Like red lamps swung by RUC patrols

In the small hours on pre-Troubles roads

After dances, after our holdings on

And holdings back, the necking

And nay-saying age of impurity.