Smithereens Press Chapbooks The Sea Path by Ciarán O'Rourke | Page 24

through your scene
to flood the grass
and lift your mud-grey torso
from its shell.
I might hear you then,
brother, if you whispered
from your halffactual meadow-room,
that it is good
to have knelt
your body in the grass
like this, and grown
as actual in learning it
as darkness was,
as real and human
in the midnight hour
as any absence is.

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