Sue O’Dea

May 18, 2018

“Prayer” by Sue O’DeaPosted by

Sue O’Dea

PRAYER

Oh Tinder Angel, rescue me
from men with diets gluten-free,
who never drink in restaurants,
gulp garlic pills, look deathly gaunt
and suffer lactose allergies.

They sniff most disapprovingly
when I knock back the fifth Chablis
and tuck into a cheese croissant.
Oh rescue me.

Just as I think I need to pee,
they clasp a hand upon my knee,
then move in close, all nonchalant,
to drone of apples in Vermont
and saving all the bumble bees.
Oh rescue me.

—from Rattle #59, Spring 2018
Tribute to Immigrant Poets

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__________

Sue O’Dea: “I am a Brit who has been living in New York City for three years. I moved from the leafy suburbs of London to slap-bang in the middle of Midtown Manhattan. The noise, the pollution, the general lunacy of the place sends me a little crazy. But I love the way this city never ceases to surprise me. Every day, at least one remarkable and strange thing happens. And this, of course, works as good inspiration toward writing poetry.”

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March 5, 2018

“The Sorrow’s Mine” by Sue O’DeaPosted by

Sue O’Dea

THE SORROW’S MINE

What shame in homelessness? The sorrow’s mine.
No break of stride. No turn of eye.
I am a heavy coat. A cardboard sign.

I had a husband and a daughter fine,
but lost them years ago with no goodbye.
What shame in homelessness? The sorrow’s mine.

As winter wails I ride the subway lines.
Invisible to sun, to rain-bowed sky.
I am a heavy coat. A cardboard sign.

Days gone I set firm faith on the divine.
Begged, Jesus don’t you let our baby die.
What shame in homelessness? The sorrow’s mine.

I lit white candles for our girl. A shrine.
But prayers don’t work. The chapel preachers lied.
I am a heavy coat. A cardboard sign.

I taste my God in red communion wine
and watch the tapers gutter in the aisle.
What shame in homelessness? The sorrow’s mine.
I am a heavy coat. A cardboard sign.

—from Rattle #58, Winter 2017

[download audio]

__________

Sue O’Dea: “I write poetry because I like the way that playing with the rhythm and meaning of a tight set of words brings me to an understanding of issues in life. I find that writing in form often distills the poem down to the essential truth of itself, and I enjoy the challenges of creating a poem within the confines of the form.”

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