Pól Ó Lorcáin
Paul Larkin

Chroniclers are privileged to enter where they list, to come and go through keyholes, to ride upon the wind, to overcome in their soarings up and down, all obstacles of distance, time and place.
Charles Dickens - Barnaby Rudge, Chapter The Ninth

The Definition of Irish

'Yer not Irish', she said,

clinging  to the bar

for grim breath

Like there was nothing more

she could detest

The intricacies of history

skittling her mind

with the drink

Staring desperately into the black

of her handbag for fags

Rummaging for a word

that would make her unique

Herself alone

In rage she snaps

her exaggerated clasps

with a hysterical laugh

Her unitary state

hung, drawn and bordered

Petrified of other realities

Closed as a dissident

Cul de sac

A Green Union Jack


@ Paul Larkin

Madden's Bar, Belfast – September 2010

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