All posts tagged: Rita Ann Higgins

“The Women of 1916” by Rita Ann Higgins

The Women of 1916   ‘the state recognises that by her life within the home’ article 41.2.1. The Irish Constitution   Years before the offending article was even conjured up by De Valera and the very Reverend John Charles McQuaid with the help of a pack of Jesuits – the plan was set in train to banish these biddies back to their kitchen sinks.   The banishing tool of choice was the airbrush. The women of 1916 did not sit back and wait in the wings of history with tricolor dribblers to mop the runny eggs from the chins of the rebels. These unmanageables, were there from the start. They could knit a thirty two county Ireland in plain and purl, with their eyes closed and never drop a stitch, while rearing seven sons and as many daughters. The rifles they held were not for showing but for using. The handgun could nestle on a hip or be tucked into a petticoat. Webley, Colt, Smith and Wesson. Winnie (with the Webley) Carney was one of …

A Celebration of Irish Women Poets on Bloomsday 2015

PEARLS AT BLACKFRIARS   For his Winter’s Tale, Master Shakespeare calls for a covered stage with the scent of candle-grease and orange-peel heavy on the air.   There must be torches to give movement to shadows and life to the statue; and for Hermione’s face – tincture of pearl, crushed.   With this bowl of dust we’ll lacquer her age, encase her in memory so only a movement of the mind might release her,   might absolve her husband’s transgression, as the jealous moon flings her light against Blackfriars slates.   Pearls At Blackfriars is © Jessica Traynor Jessica Traynor is from Dublin. Her first collection, Liffey Swim, was published by Dedalus Press in 2014. Poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Poetry Ireland Review, The Raving Beauties Anthology (Bloodaxe), Other Countries: Contemporary Poets Rewiring History, If Ever You Go (2014 Dublin One City One Book), The Irish Times, Peloton (Templar Poetry), New Planet Cabaret (New Island Books), The Pickled Body, Burning Bush II, Southword, The SHOp, Wordlegs, The Moth, Poetry 24, The Stinging Fly, …

“The Mission” by Rita Ann Higgins

The Mission I think of the last time we met on the prom in Galway. A sunny day in May you looked cool in those shades. You looked taller somehow. We talked for ages. You told me about plans for your mother’s sixtieth. I felt lucky to have such a nephew. Shades or no shades. You hid your distress well, John. None of it was evident that sunny day. The day of good nephews. A month later you went to Beachy Head. WTF John. I think of you leaving your bundle on top of Beachy Head. Your belt coiled around your watch your wallet with a photo of your daughter your fire fighter’s ID card your blood donor card your bus ticket from Brighton. Losers weepers. Margaret, your Irish twin, was on a holiday she didn’t want to go on. She had been worried sick, she had us all demented saying you were going to do it. Twins know things, Irish twins know more. I was at a wedding in June when some friends of …