Jonathan by John Doyle

Leighlin Road, Dublin, 1982-1988

My auntie's front-lawn's

nearing Babylon, 

Jonathan's fingers thus

measure everything, 

a neighbourly kindness - its fertility-levels

tinkered with, 

under wiley-thumb and spindly fingertip, the

chances cocktail-coloured

plants have (prior to pestilence, endless blackness, etc),

a lesser-celebrated tributary underneath, 

often roused in times of flood -

these times are well-known 

among the Sundays 

spent in ornate halls, 

buses primed and loaded, 

with visions of Heaven and Hell.

Jonathan leaves these things 

until Thursdays she says -

days of silence, 

days of police-station visits

occupy his calendar, 

like a section of the bible

we skip 

at mass.

Jonathan is a good boy,

Jonathan does his best.

John Doyle became a Mod again in the summer of 2017 to fight off his impending mid-life crisis; whether this has been a success remains to be seen. He has has two collections published to date, A Stirring at Dusk in 2017, and Songs for Boys Called Wendell Gomez in 2018, both on PSKI's Porch.

He is based in Maynooth, County Kildare, Ireland. All he asks is that you leave your guns at the door and tie up your horses before your enter.