When all of this is over. A poem by Patricia Anne Moore

When all of this is over,
I’ll remember turning off the news, the breaking of a nightly ritual,
if I don’t put my finger in the wound, I don’t have to believe.
bitter sweet, four squares of dark chocolate, the head in a good book.

When all of this is over,
I’ll remember walking round the Pollaghs at Birdhill
learning to name the hedgerow plants I’ve grown to love
nettle,violet, cow parsley, Queen Anne’s Lace,
And hawthorn blooming bridal white or blushed with pink.

When all of this is over,
we’ll remember living under virtual house arrest;
small beer, as it happens, in the human rights scheme of things,
we know it’s for the common good, so we submit.
Breakout’s due, anytime now.

When all of this is over,
I’ll be putting on my blue suede shoes, wearing that purple dress,
and repurposing my bra, to paint the town red.
There’s gonna be a party tonight and I’ll be there
Funking it up, giving it a blast, maybe getting Brahms and Liszt,
When all of this is over.

…………

Patricia Anne Moore lives in Killaloe Co Clare. She has had work published in several journals, including ‘Stony Thursday’. She is working towards a first collection.