71
CATCH
THE
SUN
“Surely
the
sun
would
not
cost
much?”
(Lucy
Irvine,
Castaway)
In
an
empty
living
room,
apart
from
the
tv,
a
lamp
and
framed
photographs
of
her
watching
over
you
as
you
lie,
eyes
closed,
like
a
corpse
on
the
pink
beanbag.
A
breeze
comforts
through
open
patio
doors;
birdsong
lulls.
When
I
arrive,
you
are
on
the
lawnmower;
you
raise
a
hand
as
I
wave
and
my
heart
ignites
like
a
firefly.
You’d
texted,
“Do
you
want
to
come
over
and
catch
the
sun…”
Before
getting
on
with
the
rest
of
your
life?
We
perch
on
flagstones,
share
a
can
of
cider,
as
clouds
encroach
over
the
lough.
When
I
ask
about
the
future
you
shrug
your
shoulders.
I
don’t
let
on
I’ve
seen
the
ashes
casket
in
the
empty
bedroom.
By
Niall
McGrath