A Poem by Mary Noonan

Carcassonne

Will I ever be free of you? At Carcassonne,
headstones slide along the slope to the railway tracks.
A plane tree, shaved limbs raised, is a crucified Christ.

Between trains, I head for the bistro where
we ate, between trains, on our last Christmas.
I have the photo on my phone – who would want to be free

of you, in your grape-red pullover, eating choucroute
à l’alsacienne, and raising a glass of red?
I see no limbs strained, no crucified Christ.

The cavernous bistro is empty now, its wooden booths
echoing as in the nave of a shabby church.
I raise a glass of red to you, my love.

Five years, three months and eleven days
since you sat opposite me. Crucified plane trees
stretch their scarred arms, asking for warmth.

No, I’ll never be free of you. At Carcassonne,
statues are cloaked in purple cloths.
The green canal is spawning buds.
The tabernacle door swings open.

Mary Noonan teaches French literature at University College Cork. Her first collection, The Fado House, was published in 2012 by Dedalus Press, and was shortlisted for the Seamus Heaney Centre Prize and the Strong/Shine Award. A limited edition pamphlet, Father, was published by Bonnefant Press (NL) in 2015. Her second collection, Stone Girl (Dedalus Press, 2019), was shortlisted for the Derek Walcott International Poetry Prize 2020.