irish poetry

 

Where are you? The splendour of creation awaits.

Beauty veiled, she dallies, playing with the wings

of birds passing, swaying her hips with the wind,

wanting to dance, to bring you music from planets

 

 

and clouds. Call her by right name, hear her answer.

Male or female, she is yours. She lingers, singing

and playing, holding out a braceletted hand, all tinkle

and glint. She wants to roll ecstasy over and

 

under your skin, swirl bubblings into your blood, breathe

you away through the waves of the ages. You can stay

where you are (where are you?) and just listen. No,

don’t even listen, just be quiet. Unmask, that is all,

 

and she will offer herself, unasked and unasking. No demands 

from her, ever, no pleas, no appealing: where are you?