St Mary’s College, Rathmines
Never the centre, always on the wing,
I spent those winter afternoons
just out of touch and fearful of the pass
that seldom came. All to the good:
those few times when I played scrumhalf,
flank forwards twice my size pummelled
my weedy frame into the mud,
leaving me for dead. How I hated all of it,
yet in my mind’s eye I was Kevin Flynn,
a sudden swerve, a blur of speed, then gone
into that world of light between the uprights.
His sleight and shimmer thrill me to this day.
