Pilot Light
I drink from the well at world’s end.
Generously, to a fault, or so it seems,
so much for longevity, a sacred slumber
That catches the moon and plays with it.
An unusual toy, I find at my expense,
that any loon could be in my shoes.
A funeral departing, slow and numb
dust off the heaven’s likeness.
Haemorraging situations, like a single film shot,
together, a logic seemly coordinated
it comes together, in the end
a cause, of course, found wanting.
What if I drink and never wake up?
It is to be considered, even desirable.
To stand on the Stygian banks
A lone traveller, accompanied by my actions.
Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, but now lives in Cork. She previously had a collection of poetry published Continuity Errors with Lapwing in 2010, and a novel, The Quest for Lost Eire published with Authorhouse.com in 2014. She has also been published in Revival magazine, in iamnotasilentpoet.com and the Evening Echo, a local Cork newspaper with a wide circulation, among others