No such thing as altruistic food, perhaps.
Ripped from origin, self-care still excellent
competition for irregular beats, ever again
secret life of the moon, a non-existent trip,
as the conspiracy goes, other people working.
Classic, but is it any good? Guiltily tripping
photocopying marriage once promised, away
distant histories burdened in the midway sun
to get things done is paramount in this universe
slipping inside this arcana a musical happiness.
The possession of fruit trees, declarative, away
dying from serial abuse, richly rewarded,
under cover of happy marriage, scarified
performing light music on over of the computer
anything can be bad, even covert talent.
This mysterious lady, shouting the odds,
goodly abuse, blessed on exit, blow on impact,
butcherly, to find a suitable daughter
saving flies like vermin, rescinding address
collapsing in love, replicating another success.
Happiness in literature, murdering any slight
performing for every passers-by, an assassin’s death
triplicate God relaxed for another year
coupling for entertainment, anchored in spite,
once beloved, serially forgotten, bleached.
Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland. To date, she has published one novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014, and has published one collection of poetry, titled Continuity Errors, with Lapwing Publications in 2010. She has since been published in a variety of print and online journals. These include: The Lake; Seventh Quarry Press; Marble Journal; New Binary Press; Stanzas; Crossways; Ygdrasil; Seventh Quarry; The Fractured Nuance; Revival Magazine; Ink Sweat and Tears; Drunk Monkeys; Hesterglock Press; Linnet’s Wing, Narrator International, The Galway Review; Poethead and The Evening Echo.