HOMAGE

The Miss Bonner brought the milk in a sturdy can with a proper lid. The journey wasn’t a long one, still she cycled up that hill and ceremonies had to be upheld.

We were told to make The Miss Bonner tea and give her bread and jam, and don’t rush her. If her head scarf slides to the floor place it round the back of her chair. Ask her if she needed to use the outside lav, and if she accepts don’t make a big deal out of it.

We watched her while she drank her tea. She was fond of the sugar, two please loveen. She liked a nice clump of jam on her bread too. Blackberry if the berries were picked in early October. She feared the Puca’s piss and spit, otherwise any jam would do. I might use the outside lav it still looks a bit narrow — eye of a needle loveen, eye of a needle.

When our mother came home — the pin of our pinafores. Did ye invite The Miss Bonner in? Did ye make her tea? Did ye give her two thick slices of brown bread? Did ye tell her when the blackberries were picked? Did ye wear yere manners well? Did ye wrap her ever sliding head scarf around the back of her chair? Did anyone make rude noises with their plastic sandals while she was swallowing her tea? Did ye offer her the use of the outside lav?

The Dublin launch of Rita Ann Higgins’s new book ‘Our Killer City’ (Salmon) is at Poetry Ireland, 11 Parnell Square, Dublin 1 on February 27 at 7pm.