Kate Ennals – Insouciance

Ennals LE P&W 1 Nov-Dec 2024

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Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume One November-December 2024

Insouciance, poems by Kate Ennals.


Insouciance

for my granddaughter, Aine

In the highchair, you kick
grin, rule the kitchen
consume my heart
dig your fingers into my solar plexus,
stick out your tongue, smile
spread me across your face
and lick your lips.

Playing on the rug
with abandon and dexterity
you scatter my arms and legs
across the mat, then snatch me up
squeeze me back in my box,
limb by limb.

Laughing, you take your leave,
wave, blow a kiss
your eyes sparkling.


It’s the Mother of the Bride

It’s the Mother of the Bride, I hear a whispered aside.
I smile, but don’t flash my teeth, my left molar is gone.
Instead, I tip my hat. I bought it in a Columbian market
thirty three years ago. Roisin was two. Joseph was one.

I smile, but don’t flash my teeth, my left molar is gone.
Hello, I greet and welcome the guests, such a glorious day!
Thirty three years ago Roisin was two. Joseph was one.
I kiss bountiful cheeks, full of youth and blossom.

Hello, I greet the guests, such a glorious day!
they bring exuberant blue dances, white flowers, green veils.
I kiss bountiful cheeks full of youth and blossom,
ignore the Atlantic crashing in my bosom.

They bring exuberant blue dances, white flowers, green veils
vows, friendship, laughter, and craic.
I ignore the Atlantic crashing in my bosom,
rising and falling like champagne bubbles.

Vows, friendship, laughter, and craic
A cacophony of years breaks over my shores
rising and falling like champagne bubbles.
I gasp at the sharp, the light, the heart.

A cacophony of years breaks over my shores.
I weep tears at my joy, my love, my girl
gasp at the sharp, the light, the heart
I’m the Mother of the Bride, I shout with pride.


On The Eastern Coast
of the Mediterranean

The wild poppies and Spanish Marigolds are gone
as are the strawberries, citrus fruits, and dates
The qidra, kafta bi bandora, rummaniyya is no more.

Under the canvas and Cross and the eyes of the world
grey sunlight hums instead beside plastic and rubber
shimmering stainless steel and titanium alloys

Clods of earth are up-rooted and human limbs found torn
at the breakfast table stamped with the name of God.


© Kate Ennals

Kate Ennals has published poems and short stories in a range of literary and on-line journals (Crannog, Skylight 47, Honest Ulsterman, Live Encounters, Boyne Berries, Stony Thursday, Crossways, The Ogham Stone, Poetry Ireland Review, plus many more). She has published three collections of poetry. At The Edge (Lapwing) was published in 2015. Threads (Lapwing), was published in April 2018. Elsewhere (Vole Imprint), in November 21. Her fourth, Practically A Wake, will be published shortly (Salmon Poetry). Her blog can be found at kateennals.com

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