Back
to issue
thick black ooze moves
gnats flick
above and above
right to fear
what is rising up
from beneath
this viscous murk
would embower
bury me under
as I sit here
all this long while
claiming
the river’s only depth
is my own reflection
unlike other
lovers of shadows
my mallacht
is this peering through
what stares back
also wondering
another curse I claim
is covetousness
I want this miasma
beneath beyond
between
gnats above and
slush gods
deep below
to call my own
some subtle spirit
must shape the Lagan
some sidhe
that might be kin
to this one self
who peers back
against all this
being known
