the raincoat (1)

the raincoat

I came as Hansel came on the moonlit stones

Retracing the path back, lifting the buttons…

                                                Seamus Heaney

                                                The Underground

I.

Maybe it’s old, yes, it’s almost certainly old

and a motor oil reek.  But it’s tight to the neck

against all that bow spray, and warm,

it’s quick these arms and fingers of three: a pair

of girls and the boy behind them.  After they’d

put the coat on backward, one arm in the sleeve

one arm around the other’s waist, and those,

those buttons that plunged

down their spine, and the boy well he’d plugged

each one through its mate, and they,

two now one, sat, side/inside, and twirled

each their free hands, (and clasp the other, another button…)

their one one one pirouette, collar flap, hood flap

under their chin, and their grin, Good Lord

their grin in the beginning, two.  And then.

And then frigid thrill of going

under and then, looking when they could

into their own eyes wide against all the murk

and swirl.  And then the warm regret.

And then their shuddering, briefly. 

And then.  Then.  Well,

Ease.