Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #50
Murphy, Seamus, and Jenna
by Belinda Roddie
Murphy, Seamus, and Jenna all convened
by the pearly gates, drinking wine, spinning
their fingers in their robes. They did not speak,
instead communicating with body
language. Murphy had burned to death, the scars
only just fading from his stark gray face.
Seamus had died in his sleep, dust picking
up around his ankles beneath the sheets.
And Jenna had overdosed on small pink
pills kept beside her bedpost every night
(The toothpaste stain still had not gone away
from her fingernails). She had died quickly.
The three Irish strangers then moved away
from where they stood with nothing left to say.
by Belinda Roddie
Murphy, Seamus, and Jenna all convened
by the pearly gates, drinking wine, spinning
their fingers in their robes. They did not speak,
instead communicating with body
language. Murphy had burned to death, the scars
only just fading from his stark gray face.
Seamus had died in his sleep, dust picking
up around his ankles beneath the sheets.
And Jenna had overdosed on small pink
pills kept beside her bedpost every night
(The toothpaste stain still had not gone away
from her fingernails). She had died quickly.
The three Irish strangers then moved away
from where they stood with nothing left to say.
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