coming from the Galway train
on a crisp winter's evening
standing upon the old Kings' Bridge
beneath
the Liffey flows
the sky is
almost a leopard skin
banding over
a full fast moon
grey black and
piercing white
as in the silence
stunning me to stop
by Arthur's place
the old James' Gate windmill
sail less but seeks to turn
in the luminescent night
you can almost hear
the shells in flight
landing on the Four Courts
one by two by one
that moment
when our innocence
was gone

08/10/2009