Digging Wild Garlic

In a shaded nook
Of matted grasses
Whorled weeds, and ferns,
Where stone walls of random rubble
Met and wed,
A minaret seed-head
Swayed in the breeze
On a long, white, stalk.

Touching, tracing, parting
Maidenhair, buttercups, and harebells interwoven;
Following stem to root;
Probing fingers parting soil -
Unyielding first
Then soft and moist and succulent -
Sinking deeper
In sand-soil and earth fluids;
Following the Judas shaft
To touch and caress
The smooth orb of it’s fount.

When you decide to help me
Our fingers touch
Deep in the carnal warmth
Of it’s earth womb;
Severing resistance;
Parting root tendrils
With swift finger strokes;
Hurrying now in hungry anticipation;
We touch again
And draw to the surface
With low yielding moans
The fruit of our quest
And hold it - hold it ‘till
It floods senses - and memories -
With shuddering sensual sensation.

^

Biography

Michael Pattwell is 57 years old and works in the legal world. He finds writing a great relief from the stress of the murky and sometimes sordid world of the law courts. Whilst he prefers poetry he has dabbled a little in short stories too. He would like, eventually, to publish a small collection of his work. Much of what he has written was either written in or inspired by something experienced in Inis Meáin, the middle one of the Aran Islands and which he loves very much. Currently he lives partly near Cork and partly in Kenmare, Co. Kerry. He has read some of his work to a few groups and really enjoyed that. Poetry is, in his view, best appreciated if read aloud.