The eyelash that drifted down the broad plane

of your cheekbone comforts me.Is it the archer

travelling across the night sky of your un-

consciousness, his singing bow? Is it an anchor


let down at the spirit doors, the glimmer

of an almost wakening eye? Do you see

through it an aperture of heaven, or a vast sea

that might keep your light-headed stare


fastened and ready? I stoop to draw

it onto the tip of my finger for one brief

moment, holding my breath to first allow

your heart monitor its three-note song.


I wish you happiness, and long life,

my husband who’s been gone from me so long.


Leanne O’Sullivan’s latest book of poems is The Mining Road (Bloodaxe Books)