All I know is the gripping of this world,
the briefest of hours and dreams.
We are the sublime and nude victims
of it, eroded as rock and filthy as the reef
we poured our oil and detritus into.
Spare my stirrings and solitude,
the rhythm of fear and the panting
of lizards. I don’t always seek
the hollow, bare thing or the chaotic
insomnia of the water here.
I could be unmoved resistance
and with all the humiliation of a drunk,
I might ordain nausea and the deluge
of your denial. The honeyed
glass of animal eyes is agony
but they are not past healing,
they wait for us and our pursuit
of greed to be undoing, death
and burning.
Róisín Ní Neachtain is a writer and artist living in Kildare, Ireland. Her third collection of poetry was published with Broken Sleep Books.
More work by Róisín Ní Neachtain
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