<\/p>\n
A World After Proverbs<\/strong> Where there is plenty, take plenty;<\/em> When the hour drew Motholoch to Rathlin, When she peeled the turf back from the mass-rock When the Virgin folded in Rathlin surf <\/p>\n <\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nWhere there is little, take it all.<\/em>
\n– Irish proverb<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n
\nbreasting the signal from Marconi\u2019s ribs
\nin Ballycastle, she rode the Sea\u2019s Swallow
\non a dulse raft flanked by compass jellyfish.
\nThey folded in the surf like tricolours
\nwhile she beached at the limbus of the moon
\nby logs furred with geese hungry to be born.<\/p>\n
\nit spoke to her of axe-makers and trade,
\nhow oats and salt bought a corpse\u2019s gold teeth
\nor the silk taken from corpses, of fish
\npoisoned for the stories of three gold teeth.
\n\u2018The oceans are poisoned now for nothing\u2019,
\nshe answered, \u2018The tooth-standard is still in force.\u2019<\/p>\n
\nlike a jellyfish, it gave the first sign.
\nFrom McFarland\u2019s abominable marriage
\nshe took the next. Until the last seal breaks
\nMotholoch hunkers in the skulls of cars,
\nscraping the bald patch on her fur with shells
\nwhich gossip of a world after proverbs.<\/p>\n