Small Happenings

By Tadhg Russell

Small happenings in an outsized world as telephone

wires are caught mid-sentence shadowing

across a backyard wall, the afternoon has come

to a dead stop and for a few minutes

nothing exists beyond this epicentre except the pulse

of a small boy as he takes aim and flings

a rubber ball overarm at a painted target.

The crowd rise to their feet as the shot rebounds

from an outer ring, and this is how it will be,

while the sky gallops off in every direction,

he will position himself once more

and reckon the angle with an accuracy

that becomes obsession, as the evening grows taller

other shadows gather, he lets the call to come inside

linger, and with the pressure of a last minute whistle

turns and strikes bullseye, then skips outside the circle.

Parents

By Tadhg Russell

A small departure for now, given the atmosphere,

they glance at one another and dodge accusations,

sparring shadows and mute separateness, both of

them

could frame this situation to similar circumstances

a generation back, even so, there is a silent

understanding

that ground must be held, sovereign territory

undisputed, a line drawn, other voices come into this

then resettle, somewhere else, out of sight.

They can wait, bewildered, confused, hurt,

disappointed,

with a secret unspoken fear of things getting out

of hand,

beyond their control, years of resentment

or what they both realize, but never mention,

outside of schizoid hormones,

the quiet, but inevitable letting go.

We Are Here

By Tadhg Russell

Trains, trees, outside the glint of white night,

countryside passing for what it is, and

nothing

more, we are here, in a compartment, moving

from one reality to another, stilled, at the

centre

of all this commotion, morning comes on,

and again we are surprised to arrive,

to find ourselves in another city, among

people

taking it all for granted, we see reflections

in carriage windows and know ourselves to be

true.