 A
TOURIN’ SON
Bill Duncan
Ah you’d a loved it, ma
An’ you wit’ your insistencies
Nev’r a meal on a cold plate
Nor a cup ’out th’ saucer
Wit’ its little spoon yet
But ya missed th’ eatin’.
Ah you’d a seen a grand thing, ma
An’ you wit’ your certainties
Peat fire below ma’gony board
An’ ev’ry floor a creak in it
Lampshades wit’ tassels yet
But ya missed th’ sittin’.
Ah you’d be’ proud, ma
An’ you wit’ all your boastin’s
Shops writ large in baptismal names
A ruddy face at Ryan’s Cakes
Wit’ a butterknife for the spreadin’ yet
But ya’ missed th’ welcome.
Ah did y’say you was there, ma?
An’ you with all your presences
In the inbreathed “Sooo”
By the unplumbed stone
’mong th’ tidy ruins
’neat’ a knoll near Dingle Bay.
Bill Duncan, a retired high school teacher has published several short
stories and his first play is currently being produced by SUNY Community
College. Born in the Bronx and raised in Queens, Bill says, “growing
up, we were Catholic first, Irish then, and American finally.” He
says of his mother: “She died at 93 ten years ago, somewhat peaceably.
Ma was never altogether satisfied, but such gave her terrific drive and
her children periodic dyspepsia. We all miss her terribly. Pop predeceased
Ma by ten years.” |
