after Seamus Heaney’s ‘Postscript’
We have gone to Ballycotton
where the ocean on one side is wild
and wilder still is the sum of six Irish miles,
the bus’s departure four minutes to the hour,
five sandwiches for the three of us,
the only lifeboat to receive a gold medal,
the children of those it saved,
the angle of the lighthouse, the missing
degrees of blue in the blink of sky,
the sun, your marriage of thirty-one days,
the spirals of the bales of hay.