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Sport 41: 2013
Frankie McMillan — Observing the ankles of a stranger
Frankie McMillan
Observing the ankles of a stranger
We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea
and we owe each other a terrible loyalty
—G.K. Chesterton
I could see you were a tourist
(the white Capri pants, the jaunty cloth
hat, maybe your daughter’s suitcase,
the one with wheels in your hotel room)
not sure how to get into the Square; only now
the ground began to shake, buildings tore loose
thick white dust and workers running from the city,
you cried out the name of your hotel but
the streets began to flood, thick sludge
over the asphalt
and such was your astonishing concern
over the ruin of your shoes I almost laughed
as I hurried you towards Oxford Tce but then another shock
hit and like dumb animals we clung to the side
of Retro’s a wooden building, walls
swung in and out, we dropped to the ground, flattening
ourselves and that’s when I fixed on your pale ankles
the bony mound, the muddy sandal strap and then
a man’s voice cried a warning
about the building, how we could be killed
and on he ran and so did we
gabbling our names, where we’d
come from and who would know
how this would end
and always the hotel that would
save you and there it was still standing
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white plaster and glass facade, Holiday Inn
and you told me to Save myself, and I said God bless and
in this grandeur of occasion I felt like Joan of Arc
but as I left to turn the corner
into Armagh street I was just another woman hurrying
home ticking off a list
candles, shelter, food and water