Making Waves

By Eamonn McNally

In the evening when the sun went down, he arrived

Nobody thought he would because, he hadn’t shown his face in ages

I sat with my sister on the long seat inside the door,

My father stood near the coffin, shaking hands in sympathy.


Then when uncle John arrived co one seemed surprised,

After all, he was her brother, the only one she had.

I remember watching him standing, staring, his head crooked,

He was an old man, frail and stooped with age.


My Mother often spoke affectionately of him

Said he looked like Henry Fonda in his youth.

Women adored him; all he had to do was smile.

But over the last ten years, there was little contact.


Sorry for your trouble, John, is there anything we can do?

She looks so good. She had a great life”

Hmm, he thought, ‘twas a pity she ever married that cute bollocks,

She could never do enough for the lazy bastard.


Now nobody knows where they are.

The bodies they so awkwardly fitted lie rotting

In the cold earth – massed and fused in the same product

That contains the very first man and woman.