Smithereens Press Chapbooks The Sea Path by Ciarán O'Rourke | Page 19

are politic with light:
in the blood-loud night
the shutters glisten,
the darkened windows
flash and gleam;
next door, nearby,
across the world,
a thousand silences conspire
to regulate the scream.
Say beauty,
and perhaps, my love,
I’ll find your form again,
my tongue journeying
the valleys, my fingers
rivering the slopes,
in search of quietness,
of storms,
and the real dawn
always gaining,
to burn the blue halfsleep of it to air.
Or perhaps it’s you
I’ll see, my country,
with a hope grown vivid

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