Noel King: Patrick
Patrick
The day my son died
his mother I held
in the crook of my arm;
his little body cold
on pebbles between us.
We’d let him
paddle on the one-inch shore
until he caught the swan
like it was a moving toy
or our cat at home.
We’re split now,
his mother and I
never had more children,
either one.
Sometimes I still climb into
the attic, step over the circle of track,
sit on my haunches,
set the train off, watch it go station
by station reaching no destination.
Noel King
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
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6 mins
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2 mins