To The Lovers Of Damage

GC Waldrep

you burn golden like a fog like a fever in a movie
a silver cradle hung between us, I placed a book in it
I buried every red piece
I grew flat within it, like a drawing

in the cartoon I found in that broken church, love
was played by a man, but
when she touches me
she coaxes a threshing music, a gilt
from whatever I am able to bless or barter

– the cradle, the book, the awl
with which I pierce this flesh I wear, as if from music
breath could draw its final victory
I poured a ship into an arbour, & called that
‘peace be to the winter hive’
(losing sight slowly of the Rio Grande, its green hilt)

I would tangle myself with you I would pray
to every king alone tonight in his garden
warming his hands
(although he does not know it)
at your harrow, your breast, your veiling, your eye

Page 19, Poetry Ireland Review Issue 117
Issue 117

Poetry Ireland Review Issue 117:

Edited by Vona Groarke

Issue 117 includes new poems from over twenty five poets from Ireland, the UK, the US and elsewhere, along with three new poems by Michael Longley, one of the UK’s foremost contemporary poets. The issue features reviews of more than twenty new poetry collections, including books by Seamus Heaney, Paul Muldoon, Claudia Rankine, Louise Gluck, Eavan Boland, Dennis O’Driscoll and Dermot Healy. Interviews include a feature on photographer, Seamus Murphy, about collaborating with musician and poet PJ Harvey and poet Eliza Griswold on separate publications, as well as an interview with Welsh poet Gwyneth Lewis by Colette Bryce. Colour plates include photography by Seamus Murphy and artwork by Niamh Flanagan.