Saturday 2 August 2014

In response to a comment after the poetry review in today's Irish Times




what women write is of the body
the body we toil to preserve and to serve
up, we write of Sile na Gigs
the body familiar, the body of history and hysteria

we write of our genitals these days,
of our lovers’ too
we dare to speak its name
we dare to write it white

we write of domestic bliss and of love
we strive for the universal in the local
the shelter of words when the sky is falling
for the secular prayer to fill the void

while children are dying in Gaza and maybe 
we could take our hands out of our knickers
and write about expelling Israel’s ambassador
or the sale of the country’s most beautiful theatre

or the consultants getting a pay-rise
but sure who'd read it anyway
now that books are dead?

and a girl in a workshop last week
had it on good authority poetry isn’t far behind them.


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