Then in the kitchen one July afternoon

you come floating in bringing with you a host

 of the old superstitions.  Beautiful, double clothed,

red-gold in flight, a tigerish zigzag

 of cream and brown stripes when at rest,

you alight on our cupboard. Totem. Amulet.

 As exotic in your own way

as the olm, the tetra, the aye-aye

 with that tendency to meddle in the dark arts,

and your leaning towards outlandish talents—

 hissing at bats to befuddle them,

even spraying them with your venom!

 On our terrace you have left

the nicotiana and foxgloves moth-sucked

 and weeping, have lapped up their poisons

for your own toxic armoury. 

Brave little juju. You make me feel lucky.

I know I must address you quickly

 before I get caught up in that old dilemma:

am I a woman dreaming of a moth, or rather…

 So here you have my question, mythmaker:

Have you any news of my father?

Tiger Moth is launched!   I am so pleased my little book is finally out in the world!

If ordering from Ireland - copies can be purchased directly from Turas Press  www.turaspress.ie  
If ordering from the UK - copies are available from London Review Bookshop or contact me directly: roisintierney@hotmail.com