When I was a young boy the knickerbocker glory
had with it a long spoon to scoop the residue.
and later with bacon and cabbage and mashed potato,
in Dublin, or on St. Patrick's Day, and color of carrot,
I held tight the knife and fork,
with Sheffield on its side.
And later growing up at parties and dinners that name
was there too on the side. And then
having searched theology and philosophy I looked
for residue with a longer spoon and sought Freud and Lacan.
From Dublin Port, to Liverpool and then to Sheffield.
Western Bank, Red Brick, Firth Court, Octagon, Royal Hallasham, down Glossop Road. Place names of memory and residue.
Now I see the parchment
'having fulfilled the requirement prescribed by Ordinances and after
due examination was admitted to the degree of Master of Arts in Psychoanalytic Studies'.
With Sheffield on the mast.
Bernard Kennedy's Other Poems
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