where the writers are

Mary Wilkinson's Writings

Article
Oct.20.2008
Lyric fm radio station Ireland
I was sitting in casualty and I saw all of these old people lying in the hallway, discarded beings with paper faces and lined skin and it came to me the, it came to me that this is what its all about, the big stinking mess.  Is this what you go through the motions for to end up in this cubicle with grey faded flowers and a bed of steel? Do all of us have a bed...
Poem
Oct.16.2008
Books Ireland
The woman in the red car wears dark glasses even though it's raining The woman in the white car has a good haircut and checks herself out in the rear-view The man in the Beautiful Dreamer truck that promises beautiful beds looks at me a face behind dirty glass- & for a moment we gaze unabashed locked in this vacuous space.   
Poem
Oct.16.2008
Books Ireland
There against a stone wall tilted carelessly was her black and chrome Raleigh. I roamed my eyes across the fields anxious for a glimpse of her stooped frame, her burnished face crawling with lines and of course her headscarf- old now but still sporting a hunting scene; Beagles and men in red jackets with little horns at their lips. Surely she bought it in a hurry...
Poem
Oct.16.2008
FALL APPLES I will not sweep aside the spray of leaves resting on the sill nor swoop upon the bookshelf seeking sustenance instead I will cling to the shadow of the bed and hover underneath the lintel waiting for a vague memory a scent of your ghost as you climbed the stairs in Fall hauling a box of Beauty of Bath wrapped in newsprinted words that you never read