Smithereens Press Chapbooks The Sea Path by Ciarán O'Rourke | Page 25

Hospice
What poem
or prayer is there
to call this animal to heel,
that webs your body so,
and skulks
in every whrum of blood,
ready to feast
when you speak, or rise,
or raise an arm,
and what
bone-dull element
is Need to us, who cannot alter
or undo
the rock-dumb motion
of this room,
which sways
to keep you
from the waking world:
the rigid chair, the rolling
desk, this week’s flowers,
and the water-glass.

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