The ward reduces to its midnight hush.
A week since you were born six weeks too soon,
we keep vigil in this touch-less limbo.
Your face a miniature in distance,
your fingers gripping invisible lines.
Deirdre expressing to your silent cries.
In the small hours, without a word, a nurse
releases you into your mother’s arms.
Sensing your breath in that titanic hold,
I wrap my shaking self around you both.
Cian Ferriter lives in Dublin. He has won and been placed in a number of international poetry competitions. His debut pamphlet Earth’s Black Chute won the Munster Fools for Poetry International Chapbook Competition 2021 and will be published this May.
One thought on “Limbo – Cian Ferriter”
superb. Men as doting fathers, particularly of babies is an underrepresented area of literature
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