Easter Rising in June (1916/2026)

Fluorescence before the lights exist,

Black wrought lining the edges,

Grass thick like rope.

Raise rifle to the very soil walking upright,

No negation, no negotiation. This is the way, this way.

It was always meant to be.

Eire Today: Crisp packets, Lucozade bottles,

& tourists from abroad.

Squint blue skies, see white flags.

Yet this is still Dublin, whose heart is a flint.

Glorious horizons the brothers never saw unfold,

Pockmarked buildings a proud inheritance,

Know something: nothing is free—not dreams, not rebellion.

Raise your rifle,

Two versus one.

Shoot your brother dead.

Lilac Napkins, Dublin (For Peter Ryan)

Cricket on the telly . . .

—Turn that shite off, yells the barman,

all polite like.

A handsome mug like Brendan Behan’s

he leans in, this lad has just got the nocturnal gift of gab;

incantations come quick like syrup spills.  

Now over here, where the music can’t reach . . .

Meet Julie, who won’t give up on our Stephen:

—Why are you so quiet, she asks?

It’s no, nae, never. No nae never nooooo maaaaawwwww

I don’t have to talk, says Stephen.

—You’re not a bleeding seal, she says.

I am a bleeding seal, Stephen says.

Bartender AKA Behan in Atmospheric Perpetuity . . .

—Julie, let’s go to Howth?

It’s no, nae, never. No nae never nooooo maaaaawwwww

—You only eat smoked salmon, says Julie.

—Because I’m not a bleeding fish, says bartender.

Two heads turn in unison, hunky bartender and that bird Julie;

And now, ladies and germs, question time is upon us:

—Stephen, they sing, do you like fish?

Know this: Stephen is the main man,

also the best at Gaelige.

Tanned and baked by the drink.  

—Stephen?

He certainly likes them, so he does,

We all know it: you, me, Julie, and even the bartender . . .

but we have to hear it, of course.

I do like fish, he says.

I like watching them swim by.

We laugh like the thirsty, we lap while we laugh.

—And sadness, Stephen, what do you say of that?

Bartender is bold now.

It’s no, nae, never. No nae never nooooo maaaaawwwww

Stephen's face becomes an unclenching fist.

In Gaelige, the dark is only upon you. It’s not you.