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Dublin Opsimath

Ailbhe Darcy

If a new start can be made

in an old place

this should do fine


City of broken clocks,

skyscape of cranes,

roads that give way,

houses that disappear


I lie awake, afraid

of a sleepwalk that would bring me

along paths that used to be,

across a new motorway


Yet you would take my hand

and lead me every time

by different streets

to the same kissing-doorway


Unformed habits

in their throes,

praiseach, the flowers that bloom

on a building site,

one clear vision of colour


I dream of you saying,

why try to square it? 

Let things have their way


From Brittle Star No 17 (Summer 2007)