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Cathal Coughlan
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You Turned Me
It was treachery, sure
it was August the first
big brown eyes, dark and pure,
and that womanly thrust
And the looks became words
and each word was made flesh
the heat of summer came screaming out of me and you
and all our aimlessness
and treachery too.
You turned me
drew back every blind
shedding scalding light into corners that I didn't know
concerned me
In that half-borrowed roon
a short-term lease was assumed
then you went overground
with some pale man you found
Seems I was free to choose,
seen from this austere remove;
those parts within me
broken and reset your way
now made demands which I obeyed.
You turned me
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and so the main event began
and some bottles shed their load
and some people shed their clothes you turned me
You turned me
because I let it be that way
and I worshipped the profane
and those who helped me pray
deserved me.
People like hotels, a night or two, on we go
People like juries - don't look left, don't clear your throat,
she's like a baby, believes in no-one else's pain,
all glassy eyes and sanctified disdain.
You turned me
so it's the Nobel Prize for you
now you're looking so stately, pious yet shapely,
parading down the avenue.
You turned me
or do I misremember, dear?
I have nothing left to give that I could trade just to relive
those days when
you turned me.
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