Delivered – by Helen Harrison

 

I recognised the Dublin accent, and asked
‘Had he married someone from Cork?’
‘No but I’ve just divorced a Dublin women,
And now live near the Tipperary Border,
Where I’m rewarded; with dinner daily –
Delivered on my lawn, in the form of wild –
Deer who roam in from the mountain. I actually
Shot one from my kitchen window once;
Abundant in these parts, but love is scarce.
Life could be worse,’ he said.

As he steered his taxi around Cork, I
Revealed how I preferred venison to pork.

 

 

Helen Harrison was raised on the Wirral, seven miles from Liverpool, by Irish parents, 
and has lived most of her adult life in Co Monaghan, Ireland. Has had poems published in The Poetry Shed, A New Ulster, North West Words, Poethead blog, The Galway Review, 
Mad Swirl and The Bray Journal. 
Her first collection of poetry ‘The Last Fire’ was published during 2015 by Lapwing.