Ulster Museum 
After ‘The Supper at Emmaus’ by Caravaggio

On the road to Belfast today, I failed
to recognise my father. I saw a flamingo

by the Tamnnamore turn off, but paid
little regard as it took off, legs stretched

out behind like a hyphen; clearly knowing
each turn and knoll of the M1, how to cut across

Malone, where to park under the horse chestnuts.
In Botanic Gardens we stalked the roses

and forget-me-nots, sat a while under the pergola.
I did all the talking. We strolled to the gallery

to see the painting. The bowl of fruit
precarious, poultry with bare bone legs,

the hand of a shell-hearted pilgrim
reaching out to us, Christ’s halo a shadow,

his holiness bright, the moment of truth.
We sat longer than we should have,

enjoying this Resurrection on the fourth floor
of the Ulster Museum. The flamingo

reclined, eyes half-closed, yet taking it all in,
words inadequate at a time like this

and all the questions answered, eventually,
by the knowledge that arrives in silence.

Eithne Longstaff was born and brought up in Co. Tyrone, and now lives in England. A former engineer, she is relishing her second career as a poet. Her work has been published in Dreich, Rattle, One Art and is forthcoming in Magma.