Cunningly hook a way in: pull to
land upon a shore of conscious
reasons why the world turns on
its axis, soul released in Tallaght
two days after you walked in. From
street to hospital death bed only a
week ago.

Today is your funeral and we share the
weight of uncle from alter to hearse.
A man of small stature - your mass
easily borne by us uncle, brother, father
and son.

"Does Mr Mooney know Barney?"

..the number of lipstick
in bags thrusting forward
is up on our mother's time
when bags were smaller with
less lippy inside to item, spring
form pictures, fix the eye I suppose
is viewed as an absence or image
left - rusting by exit - gone.

"Dear do we know?"

..He lived before Nemo swam.
and vanquished him. Exiled in the
attic. Extinct his trill of love's now
silent on tape in a box of memory
fading up creaky stiff steps, unused.

Imagination assemble the hand of reality.
Invisible craft this crumbling eye seers
the flawed form of an imprecise mind
resting on a tablecloth. Uncle John swept

asunder in love, return and tell us of