For Nóirín
I know you went with Sally to the old church
In the City Centre, miraculously unscathed by bombs
On both sides. What a splendid idea to leave
Its space open and lit on New Year’s Eve
With no one visibly there. I imagine
Some small body absorbing graceful scenes
And alcoves and candles, with hands clasped
At Mass. Your mother lights candles next to yours
For five dead relatives. She touches me with holy water
Four times in the shape of hope’s four-leafed clover.
Chris Agee is the editor and publisher of Irish Pages and The Irish Pages Press. His last book was Trump Rant (2021), “a poetic work of non-fiction”; and he is working on his fifth collection of poems, Irish Rain
I know you went with Sally to the old church
In the City Centre, miraculously unscathed by bombs
On both sides. What a splendid idea to leave
Its space open and lit on New Year’s Eve
With no one visibly there. I imagine
Some small body absorbing graceful scenes
And alcoves and candles, with hands clasped
At Mass. Your mother lights candles next to yours
For five dead relatives. She touches me with holy water
Four times in the shape of hope’s four-leafed clover.
Chris Agee is the editor and publisher of Irish Pages and The Irish Pages Press. His last book was Trump Rant (2021), “a poetic work of non-fiction”; and he is working on his fifth collection of poems, Irish Rain
