‘Meditation’ by Ingrid Casey

Listen to the evening come down. Boot clicks, gravel-
rumble under the thudthud of a leather ball. Gladioli
curls, loll on indigo fur, lamps are lit. Kids called home,
names like Evan distill the darkening air. Eavan on your
mind; this satellite village is safe, the house a capsule. Sedate,
a womb of one’s own. Float; you’re a paper cutout, earth, water
and sky. A part of this tableaux, be still. You’re home.

From issue #2: spring/summer 2016

About the Author
Ingrid Casey is a teacher, single mother and poet. She studied English and philosophy at Maynooth University, attaining the Henry Hutchinson Stewart scholarship from the NUI in 2004, and the Frank McGuinness Prize from Maynooth University in 2005. She graduated with an MA in Culture, Empire and Postcolonialism in 2008.