Three Poems


RICHEY

My great-grandfather Richey Brooks
began in mud, at Moneymore:
'A place of mud and nothing else'
he called it (not the way it looks,
but what lies under those green hills?)
Emigrated in '74;
ended in Drury; mud again -
slipped in the duckrun at ninety-three
(wouldn't give up keeping poultry,
always had to farm something.)
Caught pneumonia; died saying
'Do you remember Martha Hamilton
of the Oritor Road ?' - still courting
the same girl in his mind. And she
lived after him, fierce widow,
...