Gray gathering Signs fell on the musty register. Two pallid Faces infatuate, braiding the ley lines, Were married in a dimly lit registry. Outside, the sky in Dublin was a dark pool, The clouds were omen, birds, startled in Your eyes, a flashing flue of doves, all wings A warring coo, escaping into the dusk.
We walked a ways to that room of dreams And dined in the Shelbourne’s Aisling room. I was Ormond, I was Yeats and you Were gone. Your happy tears were notes singing Our sorrows that day. Our love was castaway Our love was time bomb. Crossing stars, we trembled As we talked. Two birds setting sights on some Lost ocean’s horizon.
When first we met, At the meeting hall, cradled in a tempest Eye, you gave me your name and it burned on The paper as it now burns in my mind Like Brigid’s fire. At once, once, we were one. Conjoined yet neither one of us a joiner. Anointed under the votive stars violently Innocent your heart, a spike, my heart
A rail. Our love was charmed, our love was time, Balm. To what end this new beginning?