i am sun-shot / green-beamed / stem-steep /
hands cupfuls of heartlines / conjuring water

take your wedding ring
or it might get “disappeared”

On the road to Belfast today, I failed
to recognise my father. I saw a flamingo

by the Tamnnamore turn off, but paid
little regard as it took off…

At half a tonne in weight
It was like the anchor –

They lie deep in a forest, wounds
unseen, unhealed. Further back,
an escarpment with dark scars.

There’s a hiss as he eases himself in
to the green pool, steam in his smoky hair.

It’s forbidden to call it war.
We’re here to liberate you;
ignore the glide bombs as they roar.

You and I sit
facing each other
in dialogue
across the table

Imagine a spring day drawing out possibilities
the newness of life, sisters in long skirts digging
tangled ground, breaking bones and loam wild