Brian Kirk lives in Dublin, Ireland. He has been shortlisted for various awards including Hennessy Awards in 2008 and 2011. His stories and poems have appeared in the Sunday Tribune, The Stony Thursday Book, Crannog, Revival, Boyne Berries, Wordlegs, Cancan, Southward Journal, Bare Hands Poetry and various anthologies. He blogs at: http://briankirkwriter.com/
The inconsequential things a mere woman was allowed to keep:
a dead corsage housed in an antique wooden box.
Its flimsy clasp judges heartlessly your secrets' worth.
An artichoke in lurid oils, a jar of cream to keep the years at bay,
a ribbon that you wore when you were happy once –
it cannot hold the past.
The last few letters that he wrote before he stopped.
A lip-sticked cigarette end in a cup that once held tea,
a half read novel of the cheapest kind.
Some coins, a list of things that you will never do,
grey photographs of old people when they were young,
a cracked mirror to reflect your neverness.