About the poet
In writing at once intense and wistful, Adam O’Riordan deploys precise imagery and memorable...
That first winter, cooing around your pink face
at the cradle, the purr of the wood-burner
flicking its long tail out into the night sky.
I was sent to the car for nappies and formula
but froze when I saw it laid on the porch:
the heavens condensed in its brown eye,
a frail bag of fur spilt a fine rope of gut
still warm to the touch as I went to move it.
Clawed from its nest into the cold world
sudden and bright and in a moment over.
This feline votive, carried across neighbours’
fields with that safe-breaker’s swagger.
Then nothing, for years, until the birth of your sister.
from In The Flesh (Chatto & Windus, 2010), © Adam O’Riordan 2010, used by permission of the author.
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