Dublin 2009: The Cod Liver Oil Spinster

by Susan Abraham

In a Dublin cottage, a bawdy lady writes her poetry. An old maid, she is cantankerous and her heart, a foiled tin. She wears a roseband on her head, a bandage on her chin and begs your trapped skin in her bed. Yet how many kisses did she miss, her tongue mistaken for a forked hiss. She writes now of mystical things. Of lovers and orchids and strange romantic swings. She writes of sonnets crossed and lost in the Seven Seas. A fanciful comic, she splashes tonic over scent and her whispers, boiled in Cod Liver Oil , are sold for a lost English pence.


2 responses to this post.

  1. Love this! 🙂


  2. Hi Karen, I moulded this prose after a poet I didn’t like… a hyper neurotic lady full of herself here in Dublin. A perfect route to get her out of my headspace. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: