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I have been here once before – It was a long time ago, I don't remember when.But as my father handed me the axe-headImages exploded in my brain.
At swimming once,I went to turn from front to backand just kept turning,just kept turning,turning over,over and over,till the swimming teacher said,
Don't move the goalposts.Leave them as they are.
Well, maybe this much wider.Now you've gone too far.
In a bit more. Stop.OK, that'll do.
Billy chased me round the playgroundwith hands full of fists
Billy yelled at me across the football pitchwith a mouth full of stings.
When Harry went awayhe stole a part of Mum.No-one warned us. No-one said.We looked and looked for ages –
The biggest berries are in the centreof a tunnel of thorny bushes.A shark gaping wide,promising not to nip.
It's New Year, 1979, at Funderland in the RDS in Dublin. In the cold calculation of the January air, a young girl tries to talk
It's five past three.Sixty-four eyes look at me.No. Sixty-two.Not Matthew.He hasn't learnt to read my face.He's got digital. A disgrace!I reach to ten.
Once everything was bigand you were small,but year after year your shadow crept up the wall and you grew tall.
We watch them, hypnotized.Pale and mysterious,They rise and fall. Joe says“They look like ghosts.”