After C.S. Lewis
Like
snow-flakes,
slow and quiet –
the small flakes that come
when it will snow all night.
How wicked it would be
to call the dead back!
Her absence like the sky,
spread over everything.
Like the warming of a room
or the coming of daylight.
She smiled, in her dying,
but not at me.
John Mee won the Patrick Kavanagh Award in 2015 and the Fool for Poetry Chapbook Competition in 2016. He has published poems in magazines such as Magma, The London Magazine, The North, The Rialto and Prelude (New York), and in various anthologies. His pamphlet, From the Extinct, was published by Southword Publications in 2017. He runs a poetry group in Cork called The Butchers Upstairs. He works as a professor in the Law School at University College Cork. For more, see www.johnmeepoetry.com.
More work by John Mee
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