6 August 2017

I wouldn’t blame you if you
fled away mo duine amhain óg
The stars seem far but
much closer to a home.

The bag’s all packed, by do máthair
agus t-athair, I. The journey’ll
rough, the sky dear will seem
far. But if you must go,
then go on ye should.

With the rocks in the shoes,
the heel gone to hole.
think of maimaí agus dadaí
when all looks far and gone.

Do theaglach can’t much given,
aside from food, hearth, and love.
If I could pack you gold sovereigns,
then I think you’d still ferry far.

From with do fhuil the monster
borne and reared, unstoppable by nature,
and governing law

If I coulda switched it out of you,
by birch or belt all, I wouldn’t
dare change what’s true from nature’s call.

Brought the horse mare your brother,
the call from your sister.
Both missed you already, as soon
as letter lighted shore.

Farewell mo duine amhain óg –
farewell from broken-hearted
loved one, anois anois ye go.

Guest list

My heart has beat
a thousand time, a space of minutes
on tomorrow’s eve – this night.

Jealous Amor, will I see him
tonight? Who inited that beast
with that ignoble heart.
The one whose presence
instant one knows.

Or shall my dancing companion
be one of Lust?
The girl with the eyes,
so large, no room for a heart.
To see her dance one could
assume so pure – but after
the midnight gong he ride
turns wicked, her ribbons down
twirl.

Shall I dine tonight with Monsieur
Grá? The one whose fluent tongue
entraps the public all?
Stare through candle light,
darling guest of the ball.
Who intervenes all the guests,
who urges mother to pull up
daughters’ shawls.
That feeds the embers of jealous rage,
The one whose wand turns men’s whispered
to quiet rage.

He’s great friends to all mentioned above,
though oft times, slandered
as well as by all.

If he sit across dining table,
I’ll treat him truly, and
honour him above all.

Archway Post Office

‘Excuse me,’ the woman in the blood-red-cotton-
jersey-synthetic mess of a unioned-uniform shirt
stopped. The package, her hand.

The distance of none.

‘Were you always a cunt, or did you just turn
into one when the menopause hit?’

Package snatched back. From hers to hers.

A smile, a wave, a twirl.

Exit left, worker stayed right
there.

Customer served the smile.
What service.

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