I find you (it’s not a competition) sprouting tulips, a jar of pens.
I lay three daffodils; my new husband kneels to take a photograph.
We debate the portent of honeymoon snaps of dead poet’s graves.
In the picture the wind messes with my hair, light makes me squint.
On-screen I am already in the past. I apologise to your neighbour,
step on his plot to get closer. My husband wisely wanders off.
I talk aloud, resist the weird urge to lie on top of you,
as if we’d share something else but soil. I don’t think we’d have gotten on.
I tell you about my wedding, the poems I write on train tickets, on receipts,
this poem. I do cry, relieved where you are buried is wild and fierce,
that there are red tulips, licking your name in metal and stone, hungry.
My husband returns with a tissue, it waves like a white flag.
©Victoria Kennefick 2015
Visiting Sylvia first appeared in Bare Fiction Magazine. To read more superb pieces, click on link.
Victoria Kennefick’s chapbook, White Whale, launched as part of the Cork Spring Poetry Festival 2015, won the Munster Literature Fool for Poetry Competition 2014.
She shortlisted for the prestigious Melita Hume Poetry Prize and, Over The Edge New Writer of the Year Award 2014.
Her work has been published in The Stinging Fly, Southword, Abridged,The Weary Blues, Malpais Review, The Irish Examiner and Wordlegs.
In 2007 Victoria received a Fulbright Scholarship—completing her PhD in Literature at University College Cork in 2009.
Dr Kennefick lives and works in Kerry.
White Whale, available from Southward, has been widely appraised and is, in my opinion, the perfect book to buy for lovers of good poetry. Or yourself of course.
For more of her work Click on the Link. Poet Head.