Monday, March 17, 2008

Poem for Today

Irish Sweaters

by Shirley Graves Cochrane


"Ladies and gentlemen--
the sweaters of old Ireland!"
and down the runway come
Maeve and Erin and the other Dublin models
hips switching, eyes scorning
and Maurice, sheepish in his cowl.
"Each household had its special pattern--
you could tell a family sweater anywhere."

Aye--even at the bottom of the sea;
for grannies knit the shrouds of grandson
fishermen who never learned to swim
(to keep the agony of drowning short).
And long after the eyes were gone
and fish explored the geography of skull
the sweaters held and told us who they were--
Cormac and Tom and even Donovan.

See how the stitches knit the bones together.

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Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)