ISSUE 17
August 2001

Chris Neenan

 

Chris Neenan lives in Rome, Italy, where he mixes two careers: English consultant at Italy's Central Bank, Banca d'Italia, and Professor of English at John Cabot University, Rome. "Both careers have driven me to writing poetry, but only recently, much like illuminating manuscripts drove 7th century Irish monks to scribbling poems as marginalia." Recently, Chris's poetry has appeared in Stirring and Dublin Writers' Workshop's Electric Acorn.
Immortal Bird     


You were there in the kitchen waiting
for the night to end
for a wall to open

light sprang a trap for you in it
then slipped out
closing the door behind it

it hung from a nail in the wall
and you pattered around
to share some of it

that is what you wanted
we heard you go on
for hours

battering the soft fabric
inside the darkness
outside in tall trees

a bright moon worked
light over fields
and fresh hay

the cut green smell folded
under the slit
of the door

you picked carefully your night
you used your many ways
to tell us

mother was slipping out
after the light
and after fixing her hair

 

 

Chris Neenan: Poetry
Copyright 2001 The Cortland Review Issue 17The Cortland Review