she usually was.
People threw up.
Irish sea rough,
night dark – hard
to know how to escape
mess on the deck
vile smells
crashing noise
confusion.
We, ten and eight,
knew rocky beaches,
the Sugar Loaf,
rides on donkey and cart,
boarding school.
We were leaving –
boat then train,
more trains.
In the end
not coming back.
© Lavinia Kumar
Lavinia Kumar’s new poetry book, The Celtic Fisherman’s Wife: A Druid Life, is on Amazon (US & UK). Her website is laviniakumar.org
