The Lost, by Rachel Coventry

The Lost

The first time I watched you shoot up
we were in the bedroom of the squat
you had on Powell Road

you offered no explanation
and I said nothing in protest though
I could not watch the needle go in

our talking lapsed as the warm tide
reached your eyes and I lost you
for a moment or two

then when you came back
we carried on like nothing happened
I carried on with what I was saying

but nothing now was the same.
Eventually I shrugged you off
with all the violence of a thrush

convulsing in beads of rain water
it is only now you are gone
I have begun to understand

that every moment since that day
is spent looking into your blank face.

Rachel Coventry lives in Galway. Her poetry has appeared in various journals including The SHop, Stony Thursday Book, Cyphers Crannóg, Boyne Berries, and is forthcoming in Poetry Ireland Review. She was selected for the 2014 Poetry Ireland Introductions Series and is currently writing a PhD on Heidegger’s poetics at NUIG.

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