Morning blessing

He flits from the butcher’s stall across Main Street
unbuttoning his beige coat. The usual need
drives him to Kelleher's discreet side-door
for his morning blessing, large Powers no water.

Kelleher holds the bottle to the measure, pours
and drones on about the price of cattle
while he prepares himself for the awaited
mingling of spirits with mind, blood and flesh.
The wife had hung on wanting to talk nonsense
while he sorted fillets and ribs until the time
she went to her mother, still not right, thank Heaven.
Later she will turn away from the whiskey reek
but now a sunbeam dances in from a blue sky
and the shadows seem to fly. He has another.

Published in The Blue Guitar (Salmon Poetry 2011)
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