Long Haul

Sinéad Griffin

Why must it be my job today

to buy flight socks in Boots?

A chill on the way, maybe rain,

what to wear to tomorrow’s cremation?

I queue my loyalty to add points,

study labels while waiting—

eye drops, aqueous cream,

things I don’t need.

Lotus pose on her bedroom floor,

my daughter decants Daisy perfume,

crater to the volcano of clothes forced

into the hardshell pink suitcase

all three girls sit on to close.

Bacon and sausages—I cook breakfast

for dinner, confuse the temperatures,

the confluent departures—

my sister by all-wood casket, the final

crossing, no metal parts, my daughter by Airbus,

caged by metal the length of two blue whales,

five giraffes tall, will cross three continents

to Sydney on a one year visa.

The empty perfume bottle stays

on her locker, its white petal cap

a flower giant that grows

in the space without her.

SINEAD GRIFFIN has been published in Poetry Ireland Review, The Irish Times, Under The Radar, Hog River Press, and elsewhere. One of her poems featured in the PAC Poetry Jukebox at IMMA. A Freedom to Write ’24, Agility Award ’23 awardee, she’s co-editor for poetry at The Four Faced Liar.