
.
Physician. (Carole Bromley)
.
When all this over, said the physician,
I mean to pack a bag, board a train
just keep going where no-one knows
my profession
.
I won’t stop till I find it, that place
where I can breathe again
and lie still watching the drifting clouds,
a murmuration
.
I want to close my eyes and sleep
until the sun is high in the sky
and there are no more bad dreams
.
I intend to learn the banjo
and play it under the stars
probably I will do this naked
watched only by night creatures
.
and when my hands no longer shake
I will send for my love
the one I should have married
and ask her to come to me
.
and we will make love slowly,
shyly, our hands relearning touch
till the mountains echo with our cries.
Prison Officer (Helen Freeman)
.
When all this is over, said the officer of the prison,
I’ll don my sunflower cocktail dress with heels and a cashmere shawl,
wear bright red lipstick, diamond bracelets and earrings that glisten,
.
I’ll step out – unescorted, hair loose – with wild racing frisson
into a boundless garden of freesias, daisies and windfall.
When all this is over, said the officer of the prison,
.
I mean to invest in a velvet chaise longue and envision
installing a large freestanding Verona bath where I’ll loll
wearing nothing but a bright red shimmer and skin that glistens
.
till it turns to cream. I’m going to keep roosters and chickens
to chuckle with, live open-plan and knock down most of my walls
when all this is over, said the officer of the prison.
.
I want to forget my surname and the sounds of derision,
inhale Chanel, dine on filet mignon and dawdle in malls
where warm lights purge as I sip chai from my china mug. Listen
.
to the summons of the wind. I will stand beside the mizzen,
sail across oceans, along rivers, past plunging waterfalls –
when all this is over, said the officer of the prison,
wearing a blood-slick from a tanked inmate whose mouth-froth glistens.
.
Probation Officer (Jan Michna)
.
No, I never took my work home with me.
At the end of the day it was always
lock away files
shut down the computer
go home.
Leave behind the secrets and nightmares stored in tattered files and rows of hard drives.
No ‘how’s your day been?’ chats and pray no work related dreams.
.
No I didn’t let the job get to me.
Twenty years of there but for the grace of god
and trying to find the good in folks
and empathy
and help
and fear.
It was years ago, I’ve forgotten most of it.
.
Except for
the abused woman who finally retaliated
and the unrepentant grandfather who was only showing his love
and the lads who loaded the wheelie bin with its gruesome cargo
and
.
and
.
there were more. So many more.
They sit on my shoulder and whisper you could have done better.
.
But no, it never bothered me, the job.
.

Quahogger (Lisa Falshaw)
.
When this is all over, said the quahogger,
I will stand, steady and solid
On hardened sun-heated tarmac
Glinting liquorice-black at dusk.
I will walk, feeling the solid slip
Of boot on stone.
.
When the unyielding earth settles,
And the paint-red dust has finished
Exploding around my feet
In petulant clouds
I will reach upwards to the heavens,
Feel the depths slipping away
From my too light arms.
.
Every day, I will savour an unsalted hunk of beef,
Resplendent with scarlet blood.
I will taste its earthiness.
My home I will make far inland,
Deep in a forest where the horizon
Hides like a fugitive.
My song will be the razor-sharp chittering of raccoons,
Slicing the velvet shadows.
.
I will summon the moon
To relinquish its hold
And I’ll watch the stillness
settle like a mantle.
.
Questioner (Martin Zarrop)
after Eiléan Ni Chuilleanáin
.
When all this is over, said the questioner,
I will put aside my face
and smile at children in the park
holding the hands of young mothers
who have all the answers.
.
I intend to take up still life drawing
and write a history of serious words.
I want to sleep in a dreamless room
with no crimson wallpaper or corners
no heavy chairs from dead offices.
.
I want to see the sun rise without a soundtrack
and hear throats singing only hymns.
One drink will be enough.
You know why I’m telling you this,
don’t you.
.
…….
And if you’re wondering what treats are in store for tomorrow, I’m not telling . And I’m not telling you what a Quahogger does for a living x