There had been roses around a wooden door. Pink to make the boys…

My grandmother saw them gather once, their restless particles forming in fog. Awakened…

At the undertakers when the door rattled, I knew it was dad demanding…

I wear you like a coat of snow weighing down upon me. Falling…

We’re travelling in my father’s Morris Oxford its bonnet as mirrored as the…

Dublin in March. Sunday. Even Molly Malone’s quiet. Though it’s still noisy in…

You were a dank shadow, our very own bogeyman spoken about in whispers …