1.
The gates opened
we walked in
my wife and I perched
behind our daughter’s eyes
we inched forward
as she tried to take it all in
the Ferris Wheel
the Bumper Cars
the water slides
set against the Spanish sunset
fairground sounds pressed against her
beeps and bells, whirling whistles
colours washed across her upturned face
the neon adding to the glow of her
she pointed
we nodded
ran behind her
arrived
breathless
we sat in the roller-coaster
just the three of us
there was a countdown
we had taught her the numbers in Spanish
shouted them together
CINCO!
CUATRO!
TRES!
DOS!
UNO!
we creaked, clanked, forward, upward
she looked at me, puzzled
her face a question
I smiled an answer, wait
just wait
teetering, forever, on the cusp
falling, falling, hurtling
into corners and corkscrews
screaming
laughing
our throats ragged
I looked at my daughter
no one on earth more alive at that moment
I looked at my wife, thought
it will never be Monday, July 1st, 2019 again
2.
In a waiting room we never wait for good news
I sit in a Dublin hospital
built in 1895
and showing it
I am crammed into a large, long room
with dozens of others
waiting
I am number 77
lucky number seven twice over
I have seen the nurse already
she conducted a preliminary test
cold as ice, rarely looking at me
mentioned tumour casually
and now I sit
we all sit
Dublin City, grey and wet
behind these walls
a thousand miles away
time, moving, barely
slow as the continents
I sit there
listening to ringtones and wailing babies
thinking
it will never be Friday, October 4th, 2019 again
The gates opened
we walked in
my wife and I perched
behind our daughter’s eyes
we inched forward
as she tried to take it all in
the Ferris Wheel
the Bumper Cars
the water slides
set against the Spanish sunset
fairground sounds pressed against her
beeps and bells, whirling whistles
colours washed across her upturned face
the neon adding to the glow of her
she pointed
we nodded
ran behind her
arrived
breathless
we sat in the roller-coaster
just the three of us
there was a countdown
we had taught her the numbers in Spanish
shouted them together
CINCO!
CUATRO!
TRES!
DOS!
UNO!
we creaked, clanked, forward, upward
she looked at me, puzzled
her face a question
I smiled an answer, wait
just wait
teetering, forever, on the cusp
falling, falling, hurtling
into corners and corkscrews
screaming
laughing
our throats ragged
I looked at my daughter
no one on earth more alive at that moment
I looked at my wife, thought
it will never be Monday, July 1st, 2019 again
2.
In a waiting room we never wait for good news
I sit in a Dublin hospital
built in 1895
and showing it
I am crammed into a large, long room
with dozens of others
waiting
I am number 77
lucky number seven twice over
I have seen the nurse already
she conducted a preliminary test
cold as ice, rarely looking at me
mentioned tumour casually
and now I sit
we all sit
Dublin City, grey and wet
behind these walls
a thousand miles away
time, moving, barely
slow as the continents
I sit there
listening to ringtones and wailing babies
thinking
it will never be Friday, October 4th, 2019 again
Steve Denehan lives in Ireland with his wife Eimear and daughter Robin. He is a widely published, award-winning poet and the author of two chapbooks and two collections (one forthcoming from Salmon Press). He has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net and Best New Poet.