Touch. A poem by Marion Cox

St.Patrick’s Day 2020

When I jump into the shower this morning,
not the usual languid lift of leg,
but my eager stretch towards the hot water,
the peppering taps on my skin remind me
of a teasing lover.

I miss a crowd bunching into
a New York subway door, funnelled together
an instant then dispersing to a semblance
of private space. Shuffling up the line to board
a 39 bus in Dublin. The huddled babbling
of a theatre audience just as the curtain rises,
crescendo of anticipation and surrender.

March 2020


Marion Cox lives in County Galway. She organises the Lady Gregory-Yeats Autumn Gathering at Coole Park and is Chairperson of Thoor Ballylee. She has been published in Skylight 47, The Healing Pen, Writing for Wellbeing (Patricia McAdoo), The Citroen Quarterly (North America) and Irish Left Review. Marion has been a featured reader with Over The Edge, NorthWestWords, Erris Festival of Words, Belmullet and several events of the Yeats 150th Celebration. She recently completed her first poem in Irish having studied in the Oideas Gael centre in Gleann Cholm Cille, Donegal.

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