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)