‘White Cross Red’ by Nuala O’Connor

The morning air
was the first thing,
growing my lungs
like a surprise,
a compress against the skin,
cold and welcome.
After that it was the mountains,
jagged protectors of the town,
with its chaleted rooftops
and evergreen outskirts.
Then the cleanliness
and smooth-run of it all:
swept footpaths
no visible sweepers –
doors that swished open
before my hand could push,
crisp-mannered servers inside.
Even the meadows and mudpaths
had a manicured look.
Tick-tock efficiency everywhere.
But there was, too, a palpable,
screaming loneliness, my own and others’:
the idle refugees,
the busy gastarbeiters,
the virginity takers and gifters,
the alcoholics and
the soul re-birthers.
And when I conjure it now,
that Oberland town,
when I think of the
whole of Switzerland,
I see a lone cut-out,
fenced-off and contained,
the anchorite of Europe, 
still ripe with solitude.

From issue #5: autumn/winter 2017

About the Author
Nuala O’Connor lives in Co. Galway. She is the author of several collections of short stories and poetry. Her novels include You, The Closet of Savage Mementos, Miss Emily and Becoming Belle. Her forthcoming novel Nora is about Nora Barnacle, wife and muse to James Joyce. Nuala is editor at flash e-zine Splonk.