Kevin O’Shea

Then, with the practiced flourish
of a vaudeville mesmerist,
The Great Rudolfo reveals
his syringe full of neon-pink
like a new blend of Fairy liquid.

We watch closely
as he searches her paws
for just the right vein
and spot his secret move
that rams the plunger home.

Falling for his patter
She didn’t feel a thing
we gasp
at the dénouement
as he touches the surface
of a still vivid eyeball
without a blink.

When my mind takes
the closing step
I hope to find a magician
to conjure a final illusion.

I, too, want to be tricked.

Drinking Everyday, 2012

After Kingsley Amis

Fat priests piss me off
like Ryanair baggage charges,
dream scenes stretching out Sopranos,
British soccer commentators,

empty restaurants’ ‘Have you reserved?’
tourist buses on the road to Clifden,
Icelandic music, uncut wet grass,
Jedward ranked with Henry Shefflin,

big cars in small parking spaces,
spelling from the American side,
broken legs at Aintree races,
not to mention genocide.