Poems by Alvy Carragher (Ireland) Published in issue 41 of The Ofi Press | What she planted
she found us in the dump behind our cottage, standing up to our knees in rotting cardboard, tinkering with broken teapots and old dolls
she dug until there was nothing but wet earth and stones, planted ivy, roses and clematis, built low walls to squeeze them into place, ran her hands along the ridges of fossils, told stories of the lizards trapped in stone
we sucked stalks of rhubarb that made our eyes wince, tunnelled through her hedges to steal blackcurrants, she cursed blackbirds and we hid juice-stained hands
we sat on the apple tree branches, craned our necks towards the cottage, listened to whispers of arguments and tried not to blame ourselves
when the silence settled, we always found her in that place by the trellis, bent low, pulling weeds, as she hummed tunelessly to herself
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Alvy's first poetry collection is forthcoming in 2016 with Salmon Poetry. She has performed at festivals throughout Ireland. She writes a blog called With All the Finesse of a Badger about how bad she is at life, which has won several national awards and has been archived by the National Library of Ireland. She is a national slam poetry finalist despite her obvious stage fright. Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Poetry Prize, The Irish People's Poetry prize and listed for many things including the Gregory O'Donoghue International Poetry Prize. She is the poetry editor at www.headstuff.org
Image: "Rhubarb at 2 Months" by RBerteig.