Poem of the Week: My Mother at the Window

Irish Times

4 days ago

(after Solmaz Sharif)
My mother at the window,
waiting for the rain to clear
so she can hang out the damned washing.
My mother at the window,
thinking of her first boyfriend,
wondering if he is thinking of her.
My mother at the window,
trying to recall how long ago
her dreams of Hollywood stardom died.
My mother at the window,
revising her latest poem, which she will burn
after reading it to the dog.
My mother at the window,
waiting for her three children to come home,
wondering what to feed them, if anything.
My mother at the window,
waiting for my father to cycle by,
carrying his ex-girlfriend on the crossbar.
My mother at the window,
wondering what the parish priest would say
if he knew of her Communist sympathies.
My mother at the window,
watching the Angel of Death, three doors down,
catching his eye as she winks at him.
My mother at the window,
seeing that the rain has cleared to brilliant sunshine,
staying at the window.
Murphy's latest collection is The Humours of Nothingness (Dedalus Press, 2020)