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| An Gorta Mór The Shannon licks the hull in starving vulture swells hunger carves out my insides the radio faints too weak to hum People writhe on the riverbank revert to animals faces gaping with grass The ones not yet dead can only gum breaths and reminisce perhaps a song, a wrong on a baby's head a goodnight kiss How many days of just flour and dirty river water and all the boy can manage is shuddering half-sleep, fluttering half-eyes My son, mo chroí, above everything I demanded the universe bow and present itself to you I have given you all this, I mean I couldn't even spare you all this |
Grosse Île Snow smelts into the St. Lawrence some mad smithie up there hammering the clouds to confetti sparks throws a silent parade for my Akami today he takes on the world and I lose a son He lost his sense for a stick girl alighting from a coffin ship her eyes passion black and furious he wove the Heart's Desire Knot threw it to her ashore and proving himself an astounding idiot dove into the winter water to her On the pier, that powerful strip of youth wearing his father's coffee skin, calls to me through the soundless snow bursting me open with pride Despite the tribulations, the wars Akami's grown majestic in mirth and wonder into a man still translates to half-fool Look at that shivery grin his teeth all ice lilies comme la lune opaline such sudden heat though they've barely shared a word The engine boars on and the jetty lingers for a frozen breath he's waving, growing ever smaller as we go and look, now a wee scamp plotting mischief making turbans with my bandages and now he is the infant once tiny to my breast now a speck, now just a glimmer and now he's gone Ekimi crumples next to me, madly sobbing snow flakes cling to my lashes dissolve into water |