Susan Connolly
Tell me that you like
a particular thing or thought and my eyes draw closer
to examine it.
Like a swift set free from its shell
I explore
new heights and depths.
Mention casually
that you dislike something: you won't know
how it dies in me,
like an elm tree
cleft by lightning:
a stranger to itself
as it burns.
Page 72, Poetry Ireland Review Issue 26