All of my life I have lived with the word ‘next’
firmly before me. An open door, a time and place
to go and do whatever comes – next.
And now I wonder,
as I could have wondered all along,
is this the last time or the next time.
I will dare eat Prufrock’s peach,
I will walk Joyce’s Sandymount beach,
the last time I hear Aretha’s ‘R-e-s-p-e-c-t’
the last time I hear Dylan droan ‘Like a Rolling Stone’,
the next or last time I hold flesh love in my arms,
or welcome a passing baby into the quick world?