Imagine having a post-mortem on your birthday …
exegesis
digging into
excavating
the archeology of life
findings
mapping the lifescape
mining the lapses
misunderstanding the stone
hieroglyphics
burial chambers
Growing up among
berberis, hawthorn, briars
cabbages and chickens
Living with
memories, mountains and memorials
to failures.
Glory be to Paul the Failure
In the Beginning was the Bang
when the whiskey bottle slipped
from his fingers onto tiles.
And the Smell was with Father and Mother until beyond Lent.
Born to be bewitched, bothered and blind
As if Genesis was transcribed into the Jungle where we’re born to find
the map of the maze that is to come to
You,
Everyman and Everywoman,
Humanity,
animals that have a good night’s sleep,
speak over breakfast,
slave all day,
skimp on sex
and suffer
organically.
Never an autopsy
No suspects
Natural causes
A birthday deceased
and laid to rest with honours,
Pardons
Prose.
Women
Amen.
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 