Retrospective

"scresh scresh dab dab" by Dean Kelly

scresh scresh dab dab,
sips beer through tooth ache,
sucks caustic lemon slice
- sharp as his wit ;
he likened his own to Connery looks,
he told a girl I knew she was like
a russian icon.
she took it not in a good way
- my teacher tells
of how his father bore him up on his shoulder,
to look on soon to be scuttled u-boats
on the Foyle or some other place :
cigars (or some coarser metaphor)
floating on a grey ground sea.
"If ye spent as much time painting
as ye did shining that bloody palette....
- what a painter of pictures could be,
no smocked colossus
....the art of tarring a leaking roof,
a leaning stride
in desert boots and blue jeans,
stick flailing,
(delight in his whinging cackle)
- my father tells,
he saw him once place bets
in a back street bookie office,
supported in divilment
by my fathers independent son.
work done.
he looked up from seated position,
"Now, never mind the rest of them,
you are a painter....
- his teacher had told him,
"You have it McCormick, he said,
you have it....
as he traced transfixed the mass of a Belfast bap,
eyebrow arching over
Hugh's lost conception,
scresh scresh dab dab ad infinitum,
to him.

Dean Kelly - April 25th 2002.

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