In the ditches things are poking, pulsing through dirt. or bulging from twig at burst-point To stretch towards the great mama. In the glow of her pleasure Crocus gorse buttercup daffodil primrose gleam yellow, calling us out [...]
In the ditches things are poking,
pulsing through dirt.
or bulging from twig at burst-point
To stretch towards the great mama.
In the glow of her pleasure
Crocus gorse buttercup daffodil primrose
gleam yellow, calling us out
The garden seat,
jackets open, hair free,
faces bare for a blessing.
Another chance
after the dark doubts of winter
to trust in suckled innocence
reborn in pale sunshine.
Marie’s poems were published widely in journals and anthologies, most recently Even the Daybreak: 35 Years of Salmon Poetry. Her collection Gynaecologist in the Jacuzzi was published by Salmon in May 2016. In 2017 she edited Bosom Pals, an anthology of eight poets’ experiences of breast cancer, published by Doire Press. She lived in Spiddal, Co. Galway. Marie Cadden died in December 2017.
