Veronica Byrne

August 2020

Capella - by Veronica Byrne (Photo by Evgeni Tcherkasski)Photo credit: Evgeni Tcherkasski


By Veronica Byrne

The moon is out, the heavens are clear

Celestial bodies bear down light through years

night years, light years, empty years

reaching Earth spent and done

An echo, a memory of what once was

a fire ignited in the heavens above

the birth and death of a Celestial God

Edition XXXXI

A Memory - by Veronica Byrne (Photo by Rebeca G. Sendroiu).jpgPhoto credit: Rebeca G. Sendroiu

A Memory

By Veronica Byrne

My grandmother washed the potatoes in a bucket outside the back-kitchen door

Using the handle of the sweeping brush she swirled them around in the grey water until it turned a rusty

The misshapen potatoes recently plucked from the ground, let go of their cloaks of clay

Revealing a pinkish hue like a newborn’s skin on a fine September day

My grandmother lifted the zinc bucket
a weight in an eighty-year old’s hands
and discarded the water
black and used, down the outside drain

My grandmother tall and thin with hair silver and long

Took her baptized fare inside before the Angelus rang

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