Tag Archives: Ted Mc Carthy

Paper Hat

      A wide shore,    the square. A child leans back into the huge shell of a hand, trusting to the granite fingers to break    his fall. He turns and grins       at his baby sister       as noon chimes    and the crowd strain … Continue reading

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Tonight No Moon

An island between two days, a birth, a death. Unused to the night, your eyesight weak, stars are doubled. A moment, and air settles. Breath plumes like a comet’s tail, brief as each star’s pin-pulse. Distance beyond distance. Numbers outstrip … Continue reading

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Sleeve

It was never a great house, the ceiling barely above your head, walls at the mercy of natural light and trees that once wheeled like rooks above your infant head crook today like a weary spine. Don’t flinch. Think of … Continue reading

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Three Views of a Square

      I Two figures by coincidence have broken from the swarm, the single mind, they stand apart, still, like boats on a sea becalmed. One goes, the other leans on the railings, looking into the park, his eyes fixed on nothing … Continue reading

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Drought

From a kitchen door heat and damp, the end of a creeping drought and its airless weight making the yard assume the aspect of a man not tired of life exactly but stretched thin, transparent as water at high tide … Continue reading

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Whites

Between the two whites of robe and shroud, the off-white: a circling of gulls. Ted Mc Carthy is a poet and translator living in Clones, Ireland. His work has appeared in magazines in Ireland, the UK, Germany, the USA, Canada … Continue reading

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Cornflower

Once in a decade, this, the yard a box of heat, air a breath from an open-mouthed bird, an electric bell drifts across the town. My hand is tingling – a weed pulled needlessly in the garden of a crumbling … Continue reading

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