A Week in Portugal by Eugene O'Hare

after five days of sun
like five sentinels of flashlight
over the river Tagus,

the Lisbon rain falls; turning
city air the smell of dark fat peaches.

water birds, on first days of migration,
gathered all week to watch local cormorants
bathe; proud bodies in slicked-back plumes.

i stole a lime from a tree in Sintra
and squeezed it over three oysters.
it rained in my throat.

in Belém, at the back of an empty church,
i heard a long wooden pew crack into six echoes.
i have stolen that sound of satisfaction
& placed it here in this poem.

at a sad moment, years from now,
i will re-read A Week in Portugal
and hear that almighty crack from the church
in Belém. this page will be wet with peach flesh.
the rain will come from Lisbon
to wash the tears from my face.

………………..

Eugene O'Hare was born in Ireland. He was shortlisted for the 2021 poetry prize at Belfast Book Festival. Recent poems have appeared in Dedalus Press, Atrium, The Galway Review, Crossways and others. His plays are published by Methuen.