Róisin ní Neachtain

Do You Refuse?

Do you refuse? 

Do you refuse to hear 

the dead?

To hear 

the forms of light

which

try 

 pity?

Try the victim

the barren mind –

the ambiguous

like cold

the ardour of 

which freezes 

the tongue

the singularity 

of sense 

the earthwork’s 

manic 

cadence 

or

eyeless

shimmering

                                    agony of worldblind.

Do you refuse

to be 

false sun 

unsunly

sunless

to a dull white planet?

To stand iridescing 

apart

entwined in no substance 

a simulated value 

no voice for no body?

A flickered gold-veined 

twilight 

too shy to cast 

brightness and birdsong in the night.