Frank Golden
We returned at midnight     .
To a high room in Epthagoma
Where strong and extravagant cobwebs Moved like muslin nets over us.
We undressed secretly
    nd saw our bodies first     .

.. f m the mlst Like strange objects nsmg r~
    .     f om behind a velled enclosure.
Or entenng r
Standing in a trellis-weave of dust. We placed our gauze-light finger tips On each other's lips and eyes Believing that we le~t there
The imprint of our hves.
Page 114, Poetry Ireland Review Issue 28