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Whatever happened to Cain?<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The bad son<\/p>\n the one who killed<\/p>\n the good son,<\/p>\n broke the family, appalled the neighbours,<\/p>\n got thrown out in to a hostile world,<\/p>\n walked the earth homeless, loveless,<\/p>\n followed the Majii (at a discrete distance)<\/p>\n stood on the road outside the stable<\/p>\n holding a small lamp beneath a sky of stars,<\/p>\n his clothes ragged<\/p>\n his tears tasting of salt.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mick Corrigan<\/strong> lives in County Kildare with Trish his loving lifer, Molly and Ben the eight legged groove machine and a large collection of pork pie hats. He regularly has ideas well above his station.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Slipping Down<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Boxing Day, and when asked what you ate<\/p>\n for Christmas dinner you say,<\/p>\n \u2018I should remember\u2019.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n You are slumped in a high-backed chair,<\/p>\n covered with a name-labelled blanket:<\/p>\n someone else\u2019s.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We are told that at the Christmas party<\/p>\n you boomed out the unerasable hymns,<\/p>\n rallied the others to sing.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Today you remember your daughter\u2019s face,<\/p>\n not her name; and of your son you inquire,<\/p>\n \u2018Have we met?\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n You search my face much longer than you<\/p>\n would have thought proper if you were not<\/p>\n as you are.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I am introduced, again, as \u2018Rob\u2019s friend.\u2019<\/p>\n You scan from son to daughter,<\/p>\n and back again,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the half-formed thought refusing to set<\/p>\n like jelly made with too much water,<\/p>\n and you shout, \u2018I\u2019ll have to think about that.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n You\u2019ve slipped further in your seat,<\/p>\n as your grandson does when watching TV.<\/p>\n Now it\u2019s Roger Moore as James Bond and<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the woman in the red sweater wanders<\/p>\n in front of the screen and demands,<\/p>\n \u2018Does anyone know what\u2019s supposed to happen?\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Your hands are bony thin; your thumbnail<\/p>\n thickened like a split hoof; and as you slip further<\/p>\n your shirt breaks free from belted trousers.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I have seen old photos, tie and jacket,<\/p>\n dapper. A care worker says<\/p>\n \u2018We do put a tie on him,\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018But there\u2019s health and safety to consider.<\/p>\n Joggers, that\u2019s what they need<\/p>\n when they get like that.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Your skinny bottom changed by day<\/p>\n from too-loose pyjamas<\/p>\n to baby rompers.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Time to sit up for the latest snack: soup,<\/p>\n two triangles of bread and ham.<\/p>\n You are lifted by three tabarded women,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n one at each arm, a third at your waist.<\/p>\n You growl as you are raised.<\/p>\n You want to be left to slip down.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n