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A Poem by:

Eithne Cavanagh

Colourful Bar


Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.

My silver-backed mirror ovals

the pastel of a pretty seamstress,

hair a mass of finespun gold.


I wore my best blouse that day,

ethereal, a corsage of palest lilac.

I framed him in the eye of my needle

threaded with a shining rib of hair

and sewed him round the edges.

Mesmerised, he pampered me a little


and then the children came.

I tried to love them

mended their small garments.

While he went about his pleasures

I stitched the night with duller thread

for each of his venal gifts.


The young needlewoman’s portrait

mirrors my own worn face, criss-crossed,

hemmed inside a gilded frame.


Eithne Cavanagh
Copyright © 2005

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