Sonnet 2

Six years ago, when Paris was the base –
Though only briefly, for my mother died –
I tried to hold a mirror to the race
Through showing Irish folk their artless side.
I meant by “artless” unaesthetic not pure;
For I was still a narcissist within
Who deemed it noble, bold, indeed mature
To cultivate from France my land and kin.
But then one day in Dublin the next year
I had an epiphany which changed my life.
Hence my mother’s words to me on love sincere
Incarnated – bringing me “father”, now a wife.
++And so, dear Milly, here’s the latest news:
++I’ll smear with shame all those who hate the Jews.


22 March 2019