NIGHT OF THE CURACH

I want to live

Where the sea is the end of the world

And the curach sways 

Sweet as the nightingale

In the melody of the galan 

To her sweet high-pitched thorn

I surrender

To the curach’s guttural waves and chatter

Bleeding ink across the bay

Through the eyes of Inishturk

Cast your nets

To the Trinity’s lone hand

That waits

In the driftwood

In the smoke on the hills, moves a hush

Till evening comes in

In its enormity

Let the end of the world

Wash over me

In your golden lugent hair

Sweet Niamh

Where the black curach sways as

Sweet as the nightingale

In the stillness of 

A dodecahedron

Isn’t that how the world 

Took your mind

In Reading Gaol

In the night of the curach

I am perched upon 

Such worlds