When I asked an American woman in America
if she’d ever been to Ireland
and she replied that she’d never been to Europe
the answer caught me off guard. Yes.
Yes, we are in Europe. I’ve seen the map.
Our mad little island like a caged-dog barking
in the corner of a cattery,
is a mere Celtic giant’s spitting distance to France.
But to be considered European seems odd.
I immediately felt under-dressed
and less concerned about the rising price of pints.
Euro. Pee. An. Yes.
Yes, that’s a comfortable polo-neck I can wear for a few days
until the airport shuttle bus arrives.
Then I’ll follow the North Atlantic Drift into the rain –
to where folk make small talk about the rain,
to where conversations about identity
seldom contain the word “European”.
Colin Hassard is a poet from Banbridge, Co. Down. His debut poetry collection 'Age of the Microwave Dinner' was released in 2021 through Doire Press.
More work by Colin Hassard
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