The summer before we packed for Belfast
Pieces of the day
In the books I’ve read and talks I’ve heard
At the Victorian B and B in Derry
The gift to our girl is a book of Irish legends
I use money like a stranger
I’m back at the museum
No rest until Ireland is united
The shore of sleep recedes too far
The groomed Botanic Gardens
We’ve all done it
The dead will walk
A friend calls from America
In the story by Saki
Belfast’s murals
The visitation of the jovial
Either the children
A root of balm
As we are walking into Belfast
Titanic Belfast
I wake. I am older
It was our privilege to serve
A cabdriver told us
Was there ever a movie lover
The children of Lir are not immune
A series of clicks and I find an essay
Was Judas’s sin that he betrayed Jesus
I walk along the Lagan
I read about Denis Donoghue
The epistemology of, nature and scope
And weren’t they at it all night
After nine hundred years
As of late too much in the past
Gerard scowls
Achilles weeps over Hector’s body
Let there be a firmament
Pieces of the end of a day
Notes