Corsica
(Before the Walk)
Curtains fluttering by an open window
The coffee is already steaming downstairs
Looking out at the mountains
Light brown yellow and high
In the early sun
It's the end of the summer
All the tourists are gone
You stir on the bed
And that annoys me
Prettier than the morning
I can't remember why I
Don't want you anymore.
(After the Walk)
Soaking in the bath
The mirror is dripping
The door half closed
All I can see is your toe
Resting on the silver tap
Your body is sunk
I imagine
A shipwreck
In shallow (warm) waters
Arms of soft (wet) wood
Thighs to hang
Flags from
And breasts that float
Like buoys
Waiting for the tide to turn
The moon is in
A low see saw arch
Over the mountains
Spilling milk
On the slopes
Comforting a cow
With a bell around its neck
Lying on the bed
Looking at a brochure
You ask me to join you
Two alligators
Resting
The door is half open
The window is closed
I see a hair
Under your chin
Bubbles on your shoulder
You smile and that annoys me
Prettier than before
I can't remember why I
Don't want you anymore
Commentary
Guest poem submitted by Frank Maher:
I’d love you to post this poem by the Irish poet Gerard Bacher. Compared with Heaney and Yeats he is not widely known but he is well respected in Ireland. He was born in Cork in 1957 and achieved his first public notice with the publication of a volume of poems entitled “The Western Star” in
1978. His subsequent battle with The University College Press in Cork over his next volume “Ulan Ude” led to his move to Achill Island off the west coast of Ireland where he lived until his untimely death in 1995 after a car crash.
As a student in Cork I had the pleasure of attending his English classes. He recited “Corsica” at the start of my first term and it made me stick with the English course. I felt warm in those words, the rest of the day was spent thinking of that bathroom in Corsica. I think I skipped biology and went to the old college bar instead… one of those poems…
— Frank