Jason Irwin: On the Road to Bushmills

                        after Michael Longley

Because of a parade, the road to Bushmills is closed.

It’s the only road that leads to Portrush, a town 

less than nine miles away, where we’ve been told 

there’s a laundromat. At a roadblock on the edge of town, 

Union Jacks hang from lampposts & flap in the July breeze. 

A police officer, via a series of Karate-like arm motions, 

directs us down winding roads lined with hedgerows 

& Bell Heather. We don’t mention we’re on our honeymoon. 

Instead, we shift our rental car into gear & drive toward 

Dundarave. Jackdaws & Coal tits flutter & soar overhead, 

but they have more urgent tasks to worry over, than ancient 

battles, or marching bands, or flags. After nearly an hour 

of wrong turns & backtracking, we once again find ourselves 

on the road to Bushmills. In defeat we head back to our B&B, 

knowing we won’t have clean clothes tonight. The jackdaw’s 

“kya” call is lost on the wind. 

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Copyright 2023 Jason Irwin

Jason Irwin’s collections of poetry include The History of Our Vagrancies published by Main Street Rag. He lives in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania.