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Molly

Updated: Jun 19

(13)

(a Joyce-mix, for Bloomsday)

his eyes were red when his father died

and it makes your lips pale yellow expensive drinks

those stagedoor johnnies drink with the will

he ought to kiss me in his arms

God he had a nice fat palm

he smelt of some kind of drink

moist always

I wouldnt mind feeling it

that thunder woke me up

God almost paralyses you

I thought the heavens were

to be embraced

Im not opera hats

tell me who are you thinking of

I tasted once with my finger dipped

on the canal bank

like a time after we took the port and potted meat

a kiss long and hot down to your soul

not whisky or stout or perhaps the sweety kind

out of that American that had the squirrel talking

you cant help yourself

all he could do was lie awake thinking of me

when a man cries

I wonder did he know me in the box

its done now once and for all

and what harm if he did

I could see his face he couldnt see mine

Id say by the bullneck in his horsecollar

of course hed never turn or let on

still why cant you kiss a man without going fool

no satisfaction in it

pretending to like it

and did you whatever way he

only the first time after that

its just to keep himself from falling asleep

and what has that got to do with coming down

I felt lovely and tired myself and fell asleep

didnt like his slapping me behind

who gave him that flower

to make a whore of me, never the talk of the world

Id like to sip those richlooking green and awful thunderbolts in Gibraltar

as if the world had a fine salty taste

yes because when you feel that way all over

first you love wildly

theres nothing like


*

This is my 13th Lockdown poem, written as part of a project funded by the Arts Council. These are all found lines within Molly Bloom's stream of consciousness monologue in Joyce's Ulysses.

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Castlefreke, Clonakilty, Co. Cork

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