Wednesday, 19 January 2022 12:40

Is

Written by
in Poetry
1857
Is

Is

by Kevin Higgins

It depends what the meaning of “is” is,
which depends what the meaning of “isn’t” is,
which depends what you mean by “my hand”,
which depends what I mean by not “around her waist”.

It depends on the meaning of “know”,
which depends on the meaning of “don’t”,
which depends on the meaning of
“a house in Belgravia”,
which depends on the meaning of
“March the tenth”,
which depends on the meaning of
a “Pizza Express in Woking”.

It may also depend what the meaning of
“Prince Michel of Yugoslavia” is,
what the meaning of “Annabel”, “Maxine”, and “Amber” is,
what the meaning of “Jeffrey’s apartment for models” is,
what the meaning of Brian Ferry’s phone number is,
what the meaning of “people from the United Nations” is,
and what the precise meaning of “going on” is,
which may well depend, for all I know,
on what the meaning of “Linda Spankman masseur” is.

It definitely depends what is meant by “foot massage”,
which depends on what you mean by “down”,
what I mean by “there”,
and what we both understand
by “young Russian woman”.

And it all turns on the significance we attach
to the words: “nothing”, “happened”,
and “at most three times”.

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Kevin Higgins

The late Kevin Higgins was a Galway-based poet, essayist and reviewer. 

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