Embedded Files
Hush
Ireland - Wellington
1921 – 1990
1. After the biopsy I’m told
he’s fading / on the plane
I grip a stranger’s hand
fly north / too late he can’t
wait / the hush around him
the Irish Sea
his glass darkens
old images return
his mother collapsing
at Cork Station
and the train that
tore him from her
the fishing fly he made
from rabbit fur and
strands of red wool
floating in Blackwater River
after they slashed his hat
field fairies burning the
barn each time he
rebuilt it
when a raven appeared
in the creamery
black-edged Mass cards
followed him from Ireland
begging for prayers
his mother’s first letter
so anxious to hear from you
this last month all our cattle died
2. Fog horns sea mist seeps ashore
spreads a fine spray over
his house / garden even his mind
he slams windows checks / re-checks
closed doors recalls Hansel & Gretel
thinks only birds see footsteps
in such fine snow
by the Wellington boatsheds
where a girl disappeared
long laments from seagulls
unfurl in the wind flocks
of yachts plug the marina
thread their masts with
moonlight / Beacon Hill
Signal Station sends
messages to ships at sea
yellow – red – green
yellow – green – green
he opens his bedroom curtains
works through the code
learns something
3. a large French bulldog
scratches at his front door
runs along the verandah
stares at him through windows
cries / won’t stop / reminds him
in Connemara a dog’s howl
means death
strangers to grace
his enemies were everywhere
even as a teenager
playing Gaelic football
on the village field in Mallow
he was shot at
4. he drinks Irish Breakfast tea
turns the cup upside down
on the saucer reads the leaves
this morning a gun the need
for unusual care
walking to work before
anyone else leaning into
the wind listing like
Barnacle Bill the sailor
the huffy puff sigh
of the gas tanks convince
him he’s being followed
No Irish Need Apply
fear of recognition made
him jittery / in the Great
Depression he pushed stones
all the way down the Otaki Gorge
in a trembling wheelbarrow
sun rain wind 6 days a week
the 10/- in his tobacco tin
5. during the Caoineadh (kween yah)
for his grandmother he saw
6 furious stallions and a coach
fly off with her Spirit
and prayed to be assumed
into Heaven by looking skywards
his first Good Friday in Wellington
the veiled heart-kauri cross
the veiled Sacred Heart statue
his heavy heart / inside
the Confessional the Priest
kisses his purple stole
nudges the green light
he takes his turn opens
the door kneels down
will he tell?
6. three monks secrets in their hoods
arrive from his homeland raise
his dining table with encyclopedias
say the Stations of the Cross
say the Rosary say Mass
the smell of holiness
in his top drawer
crumbling palm fronds
(he was too scared
to burn or throw them away)
blessed made sacred
on Palm Sunday
the smell of tobacco
1920’s Knocknagree scared
men in the porch of Christ
the King not feeling worthy
to take part in the Mass
blessing themselves genuflecting
trying to be sacred
hoping it counts
7. he slips into a fine membrane
fluted around the edge like fear
no arms no hands no legs no teeth
to dig with waits for the gun
sleeps like a hare open-eyed
Knocknagree hill of the hare
where he was born watching
a sky spongy as peat
when he died a nurse
closed his eyes one
opened
Kerrin P. Sharpe has published five collections of poetry (with Te Herenga Waka University Press, Wellington). She has had poems published in a wide range of journals including Oxford Poets 13 (Carcanet Press), Blackbox Manifold, Poetry (USA), berlin lit (Germany), PN Review and Stand (UK). She has also appeared in Best New Zealand Poems and in 2021 and 2025 received Michael King Writers’ residencies. Hush was written with the assistance of a Creative NZ Fellowship Award.
Copyright © 2026 by Kerrin P. Sharpe, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
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