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Music of the Spheres

Sleet, lull, sleet, the day after
you left. I check the house –
warm air again in landings, the boiler
fixed, purring, long glacial weeks
banished. Outside, the heaviness
of thaw, rain clotting, a drift
of more to come. A figure
we once knew shuffles, peers
at a familiar, peeling wall as if
seeing beyond himself: and I see us,
not old men, but children forever
exiled from a simple life,
each step of adolescence
the crossing of a hidden fissure,
each song a loss that punctuates
the music of the spheres.

Ted McCarthy is a poet and translator living in Clones, Ireland. His work has appeared in magazines in Ireland, the UK, Germany, the USA, Canada and Australia. He has had two collections published, November Wedding, and Beverly Downs.

His work can be found on Ted Mc Carthy's Poetry Site