Tuesday, 3 November 2015

A poem by Hilda Sheehan


Take DADA, a living wage
stored behind OUR Tescos
lost in lost of ready meals
and saved plastic. Save

the children, enter drastic
boats tied by borders
and wonder WONDER
the empty gardens

and imaginary wealthy
culprits. Can you cry for
the ecstatic arrival of colour
or turn into TINS of sardines?

Hilda Sheehan’s debut collection is, The Night my Sister Went to Hollywood (Cultured Llama Press, 2013). She has also published a stunning chapbook of prose poems, Frances and Martine (Dancing Girl, 2014). ‘Joyously funny whilst simultaneously discussing disability, animal rights, racism, size, the menopause, love, female relationships and other issues … comic writing with bite’ – David Caddy, Tears in the Fence.

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