Nuala Ní Chonchúir

The Lunar Spread 

On Half Moon Street
we eat Tunisian orange cake,
under a painting of a melon
that spills seeds like love.

Over Notre Dame
the moon is a plate,
tossed by a Greek waiter
from rue Hachette.

Clear of Galway’s rooftops
the full moon
– bald as a skull –
crowns the night.

When she is van Gogh yellow
and mooning above,
we close the shutters
to safely sleep.



George Konrád on Memoir

                       a found poem

I realised if I kept out fiction,
what would remain was fiction, too.

Speaking from a certain distance,
everything that happens to us in our lives
eventually becomes fictionalized, a fiction:

Our minds fictionalize our memories,
which are not as much chronological
as they are geographical.

It’s as if what we remember
are only islands of oil
floating upon the surface
of a sea of everything
that has ever happened to us.

Born in Dublin in 1970, Nuala Ní Chonchúir lives in County Galway. Her début novel You (New Island, 2010) was called ‘a heart-warmer’ by The Irish Times and ‘a gem’ by The Irish Examiner. Her short story collection Nude (Salt, 2009)) was shortlisted for the UK’s Edge Hill Prize. Her second short story collection To The World of Men, Welcome has just been re-issued by Arlen House in an expanded paperback edition and her new collection of short stories, Mother America, will be published by New Island in May. Nuala’s third full poetry collection The Juno Charm was recently published by Salmon Poetry.