We didn’t read the news. A prose poem by Neil McCarthy

We didn’t read the news

I was at my usual booth, half a cold cappuccino 
in front of me, my daughter crawling over my lap
in an attempt to crayon the paper I was reading.
The man at the table across the floor looked like the 
prison warden from The Shawshank Redemption.
Whatshisface. I'd seen him in a few things recently.
He smiled. Stared just long enough for it not to be
awkward. Probably had a flashback of his little one
doing the same some forty years or so before. 
His wife lowered her newspaper too and looked over 
at my daughter, watery-eyed, as if picturing herself
at the same age; not a care in the world and more 
concerned with colouring things in than reading 
those little black shapes that make everyone angry.
Bob Gunton. That was him. The true miscreant of
the tale. That character you sit and watch and pray 
that they get their comeuppance. I looked down at
my table and hoped I hadn't stared back long enough
for it to have been awkward. I took my daughter's 
tiny hand and guided her crayon straight across the 
front page of my newspaper, carved a waxy orange
lined through the column about war; added green 
to the political article, purple to the images of 
Wall Street men transfixed by their sanctity of screens.
We took turns shading a bit here, another bit there,
exchanging crayons until the prismatic pages began
to glow like a city at night — a metropolis viewed from
a distant hill where the engorgement of colours is just 
enough to help us briefly forget about the smaller,
anger-inducing shapes within.

Return to Journal

Neil says: I’m an Irish poet dividing my time between Vienna and Los Angeles. I love writing, reading, football (the real stuff) and have recently fallen in love with good whiskies. In that respect, put a good game of football on the box in a bar, give me a whiskey and let’s talk poems – is that close enough to Heaven?

I have published 3 chapbooks of poems and released one CD of spoken word entitled ‘Live in the Laden’ recorded in Vienna and released under Preiser/Label 08. My poems have been widely published and also translated and published in Romanian, Hungarian and Serbian. 

Debut Collection “Stopgap Grace” published by www.salmonpoetry.com 2018

Published by darcie friesen hossack

Darcie Friesen Hossack is a graduate of the Humber School for Writers. Her short story collection, Mennonites Don’t Dance, was a runner-up for the Danuta Gleed Award, shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Prize and the Ontario Library Association's Forest of Reading Evergreen Award for Adult Fiction. Citing irreverence, the book was banned by the LaCrete Public Library in Northern Alberta. Having mentored with Giller finalists Sandra Birdsell (The Russlander) and Gail Anderson Dargatz (Spawning Grounds, The Cure for Death by Lightening), Darcie is now completing her first novel where, for a family with a Seventh-day Adventist father and a Mennonite mother, the End Times are just around the corner. Darcie is also a four time judge of the Whistler Independent Book Awards, and a career food writer. She lives in Northern Alberta, Canada, with her husband, international award-winning chef, Dean Hossack.

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