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by Joe Naughton -

(In memory of Tom Keaveney, Dunmore, Co. Galway)

Grandfather waked on the kitchen table

bobs and bits of lifeless brass scattered,

dusty entrails your hands once cradled,

the sugar bowl full with heart, it barren now of beat and sound

Patience intertwines your gentle fingers,

their gifted touch peels back time,

unearths the toll from your telling of it

Grandfather brothers stand, keening by the wall,

leathered anvils drumming rods

willing that from the timeless his two hands will up and walk,

Lazarus like, grandfather stirs, stretching ends and odds,

belly rumbles, Escapement sputters, gasps through geartrain, spring and spindle

pendulum weighed, it wags again to becomes your chime

not the time to be silent for its time again for time to talk

and talk it does for there’s time to tell, the brothers chiming in

as you slow waltz him to the corner, between the dresser and the sink

breathless you listen intently to grandfathers resurrected pulse

the Tuam Herald ’s front page folded, correcting his Pisa like affliction,

Easter Sunday morning within St Nicholas, hope has risen, uplifted by holy sound

warmth still rising from the sepulchre of gun-barrel veins welded by your hand

would grandfather’s heart still beat if weighed once more,

sound the echo of your heartbeat and tick to the trickle of our sand.


Joe Naughton hails from Corrandulla, Co. Galway. He has been writing poetry since 2016. His material derives mainly from memoir and topical issues. For the past five years, he has attended the Over the Edge online series and poet Kevin Higgins's workshop classes.

Joe has had poems published in the Vox Galvia section of the Galway Advertiser and in Spilling Cocoa Over Martin Amis.

He is a regular reader on Lime Square Poets and Off the Page open mic platforms and is a member of Mountbellew Underground Writers Group and Write On, Galway.


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