Moved by the sangre

Celtic chills embrace me

disguised as rain and wind

roaming my spine in Union Hall

not only the sea looks back at me.

O’Sullivan you say?

We hold that quota teeming like

mussels washed in ocean butter,

kidnapped in the sandy bay.

My name like steely headlands

splashed on bricks above the door,

established 1922 and then forever more.

Forged martyrs on the cobbler’s square

scream whispers of the just

in piercing stoney silence

precipitate washed away treasures

in nimble words of my ancestors.

Wade out amid sea juices

and of your own never be afraid

your pants rolled up

like an egret deep in meditation.

Roots exposed for all to see

Soul exposed for all to see.

Wrapped in whittled rain.

Wrapped in that rascal rain

Floating like a swan,

no ripples in her whirls,

taking centuries to open

Christmas presents from the Earls.

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