Vincent Hughes is a 22 year old writer, musician, film-maker, and photographer from Cong, County Mayo. He was recently awarded a Bachelor of Arts from N.U.I.G., where he is currently pursuing a Master of Arts in writing. He has been published in ROPES, SIN, the N.U.I.G. student newspaper, as well as being featured in a number of minor anthologies, journals, music blogs, and newspapers.
We Buried His Memory Before His Body Saw the Earth
I remember how my mother ignored him
in the parking lot
as he shook my father’s hand,
and how the family spoke of him
in hushed whispers that I could never hear,
even when he wasn’t around.
He was that uncle on my father’s side
that no one seemed to know,
surviving only through the stories
they refused to tell us
until we were old enough to understand.
I remember when he drank himself to death
he wasn’t found for days,
and still no one wept.
The Winter That Kissed You
You were turning the colour of ashes
the last time I saw you,
a pale imitation of the woman I knew
from photographs and flashbacks;
formerly fiery, famously cold.
I remember that year
the snow piled high on the roadside
and the ice bit into everything;
that was the winter I watched you
turn into a snowstorm,
the winter that kissed you
From the Cutting Room Floor
I watch them peel back the layers of her façade,
Like sculpting her form out of clay,
The angles and lines of her frame
Aligned like a surrealist sketch of infinity,
Towering over us and laid bare to be judged
In the passing glance of strangers.
It’s strange to see her like this,
An abstraction of her former self,
A distortion of her signal,
A monument among men.