Blue skies, a sunny afternoon picking gooseberries
In the haggard behind the cottage in Hacketstown
Hard, green, slightly unripe
I bit through the hairy skin
Sour juice dripped down my chin
‘You’ll get cramps’ my mother warned
I didn’t listen.
I ate more than was placed in the wicker basket.
It was a long and bumpy drive back to Dublin
‘I feel sick’ I groaned from the back seat
‘You never listen to your mother’ said my great aunt sitting up front
We’re almost there’ said mam ‘hold on’
I threw up the gooey green mess on great aunt Nan’s best coat
As we crossed Rialto Bridge
‘I couldn’t hold on mam’ I cried
I sat back in my seat
A gooseberry fool.