More on: Poetry

c I was reeding you
see I was reading you
sí I was red in you

It would be fine my mother said, as we boarded the plane back from school, the taste of ginger from the holiday still riding my back teeth.

All is still. God has come and gone.

All is still. God has come and gone.

Can we stay awake this time? Can we keep the world from ending, not by flood or fire but by its own human hand?

This place is an ark now.
Behave as you would on an ark.

Bless the Doctor, O my soul, and my daughter’s soul and all my daughter’s missing genes shall bless His holy degree.

In the hollow of her mantle, in the crossing of her arms,
she will protect you.

But should you be patient enough to wait near the edge of the forest where invisible and visible merge with magic and miracle.

There was no religion in our house. For years I thought it was a hole, a gap in the woodwork I needed to fill.