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Image by Elena Kloppenburg


the madrigal, volume ii


by jenny byrne

I do not want to lament the day you died,

each year, purging up the aisle of

expectation to kneel and prostrate

I am ready for the date to come and know

there is no must, no proper, no should


I may trace a fingertip across your scarf

of orchid silk, allow jewels to glisten in my palm,

scatter photos, hold linen to my face

and breathe you in – less of you with time;

but still, a tiger knows her cubs,

animal instinct reciprocates


This pace, once chaotic, stumbling,

shapeshifting to satisfy others

has slowed, is gentle;

with desire to gratify fading

I move, a rising relevé in satin slippers

to my tentative, delicate rhythm


I may look back from time to time as I lead

myself forward towards my skyline

I think you would raise a celestial hand,

urging me onward.

Jenny is originally from the seaside town of Bray. Being near the sea always feels like home. Her husband is Galwegian, and they love to spend time there as often as they can. Always curious and drawn to learning she often says she will stop studying, but never gets around to that. Her biggest achievement to date is being a mother to two lovely people. She is quite new to the writing scene and enjoying both it and the writing community very much. Her work has been published in the Galway Review and Impspired. 

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