after Patrick Kavanagh
The priest’s mouth was white with froth –
How wonderful that was, how wonderful!
And we turned our arses up, like bugles.
The music that came out was magical.
The light that fell across our cheeks
was a hole in Heaven’s gable.
My father at the front gate
fingered his melodeon.
He called the wild hogs
from across the bogs.
I pulled my trousers on
in a hurry, I can tell you.
KEVIN HIGGINS is satirist-in-residence at The Bogmans Cannon