I | |
| |
He would drink by himself | |
And raise a weathered thumb | |
Towards the high shelf, | |
Calling another rum | |
And blackcurrant, without | 5 |
Having to raise his voice, | |
Or order a quick stout | |
By a lifting of the eyes | |
And a discreet dumb-show | |
Of pulling off the top; | 10 |
At closing time would go | |
In waders and peaked cap | |
Into the showery dark, | |
A dole-kept breadwinner | |
But a natural for work. | 15 |
I loved his whole manner, | |
Sure-footed but too sly, | |
His deadpan sidling tact, | |
His fisherman’s quick eye | |
And turned observant back. | 20 |
| |
Incomprehensible | |
To him, my other life. | |
Sometimes, on the high stool, | |
Too busy with his knife | |
At a tobacco plug | 25 |
And not meeting my eye, | |
In the pause after a slug | |
He mentioned poetry. | |
We would be on our own | |
And, always politic | 30 |
And shy of condescension, | |
I would manage by some trick | |
To switch the talk to eels | |
Or lore of the horse and cart | |
Or the Provisionals. | 35 |
| |
But my tentative art | |
His turned back watches too: | |
He was blown to bits | |
Out drinking in a curfew | |
Others obeyed, three nights | 40 |
After they shot dead | |
The thirteen men in Derry. | |
PARAS THIRTEEN, the walls said, | |
BOGSIDE NIL. That Wednesday | |
Everyone held | 45 |
His breath and trembled. | |
| |
II | |
| |
It was a day of cold | |
Raw silence, wind-blown | |
surplice and soutane: | |
Rained-on, flower-laden | 50 |
Coffin after coffin | |
Seemed to float from the door | |
Of the packed cathedral | |
Like blossoms on slow water. | |
The common funeral | 55 |
Unrolled its swaddling band, | |
Lapping, tightening | |
Till we were braced and bound | |
Like brothers in a ring. | |
| |
But he would not be held | 60 |
At home by his own crowd | |
Whatever threats were phoned, | |
Whatever black flags waved. | |
I see him as he turned | |
In that bombed offending place, | 65 |
Remorse fused with terror | |
In his still knowable face, | |
His cornered outfaced stare | |
Blinding in the flash. | |
| |
He had gone miles away | 70 |
For he drank like a fish | |
Nightly, naturally | |
Swimming towards the lure | |
Of warm lit-up places, | |
The blurred mesh and murmur | 75 |
Drifting among glasses | |
In the gregarious smoke. | |
How culpable was he | |
That last night when he broke | |
Our tribe’s complicity? | 80 |
‘Now, you’re supposed to be | |
An educated man,’ | |
I hear him say. ‘Puzzle me | |
The right answer to that one.’ | |
| |
III | |
| |
I missed his funeral, | 85 |
Those quiet walkers | |
And sideways talkers | |
Shoaling out of his lane | |
To the respectable | |
Purring of the hearse... | 90 |
They move in equal pace | |
With the habitual | |
Slow consolation | |
Of a dawdling engine, | |
The line lifted, hand | 95 |
Over fist, cold sunshine | |
On the water, the land | |
Banked under fog: that morning | |
I was taken in his boat, | |
The Screw purling, turning | 100 |
Indolent fathoms white, | |
I tasted freedom with him. | |
To get out early, haul | |
Steadily off the bottom, | |
Dispraise the catch, and smile | 105 |
As you find a rhythm | |
Working you, slow mile by mile, | |
Into your proper haunt | |
Somewhere, well out, beyond... | |
| |
Dawn-sniffing revenant, | 110 |
Plodder through midnight rain, | |
Question me again. | |