That was the winter of the Fagin gloves,
wedge heel boots and duffel coats
and Friday nights in the Fox and Hound;
the city bulged amber through slumped glass,
the pavements grew slick with rain, and
cool gathered in the folds of damp umbrellas.
Looking back, we could have been a painting,
a Rembrandt perhaps, or a Vermeer:
the elements were there. See, the five of us huddled
at a table, leaning—not over dice, or a hand of cards—
but towards one another, mid-sentence,
firelight lacquering chins and knuckles, wetly;
oils take days to dry. And there he is, still twenty-one,
slouched at the intersection of thirds,
his dark face flushed, hands upturned in supplication,
perhaps, or anger—or had he just drunk too much beer?
the face of the girl opposite is masked sheer
by the fall of her hair and the pale ridge of her ear,
but her shoulders are stiff, hands holding each other:
her whole body speaks. She can’t see the waitress
stepping out of the canvas, twisting back to look at her,
drinks tray tilting; the others are settling into their
background for the night, the broad brushstrokes
of their thoughts hardening. Only one is turned to us—
but enough. Let us go now, while there is still time
lest we eavesdrop too long on our own past,
and stir up ghosts to trail the rest of our lives.
First published in Mingled Voices 7, International Proverse Poetry Prize Anthology (Proverse Hong Kong, 2023)
Denise O’Hagan is a Sydney-based editor and poet, born in Italy, and former poetry editor with The Blue Nib. Her poetry collection Anamnesis (Recent Work Press 2022) was a finalist in the Eric Hoffer Book Award (USA) and shortlisted in the Rubery Book Award (UK). Website: https://denise-ohagan.com FB: Facebook Denise O’Hagan Twitter: Denise O'Hagan (@DeniseOHagan3) LinkedIn: Denise O'Hagan | LinkedIn Instagram: Denise O'Hagan (@blackquillpress)