New Irish Writing: Poetry by Bill Richardson
Bill Richardson, November's choice for New Irish Writing poetry
Bill is emeritus professor in Spanish at the University of Galway. His poems have been published in numerous poetry magazines and journals, as well as in collections such as Creative Ireland’s ‘Chasing Shadows’ and the ‘Fish Anthology 2020’.
It’s Hard to Burn a Word
for Salman Rushdie
It’s hard to burn a book,
even the Inferno, full of fire
and boiling blood
and words to boil the blood –
words about the tyrants,
about the despots and the führers,
those who, like black holes,
suck in the humble and the game
to do the dirty work:
the sheep, the rams, the big black boars
drawn like moths to flames
of fear, supremacy and anger.
Orbiting in cycles of endorphins,
they learn to kick, wield metal bars,
beat a door down with their fists
and haul the books out,
doused in paraffin and oil,
and, since the book’s a compact whole,
finally to open pages
and let the flowing flames engulf the words.
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Herding
She was never afraid of cows,
big and all as they were.
They always looked content,
seemed to like where they were going.
Horses were a different story,
nudging in, demanding sugar-cubes,
looking like they’d bite.
*
Her mother dared not cross him.
They couldn’t look him in the eye
when he’d come back, drink taken,
see them relaxed around the telly,
puff across the room
and, purple-faced,
pull out the plug.
*
A couple of days, they said.
And on the sixth day,
she nods to the nurse,
wets a sponge in whiskey,
dabs it on his lips
and whispers Go to mammy, da.
He smiles a strong smile
and looks the way he’d look
at the wheel of the Morris Minor,
puttering calmly down the lane
behind the herd.
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