Troubles: The Gallery

The nights before 
your childhood was spent
wading through the muddy bogs
of contention and war, your
biggest care was staying
awake a bit longer
to play in the midnight sun.

The Lit Nights

You made the perfect pirate
with your silver earring and winsome grin
but little did I know that you played
deckhand every day at work
ascending the George Washington Bridge
like a sailor climbing to the crow’s nest
before gaining your sea legs 
on barrels high above the briny deep.

All Hands on Deck

All you wanted was to find one person alive
curled in a small corner of hope
where you could set down your soul
while you sifted through flesh and 
bone in the clinging September ash.

Silver Lining

My childhood was watching you
rock the stage in a white leather jacket
wrist rolling a tipper over the thin skin of a Bodhrán
drumming melodies for twenty thousand ears.

Paddy the Yank

The first day
a young man dared call you old
you arm-wrestled him
until all of 7-11 was chanting your name.

Arm-Wrestling in 7-11