CRADLING NIGHT

Last night the moon hid
daring the stars
to give chase
across the void
but they preferred
their slow procession.
I looked long,
hard for her
but she was master
of this game.
I looked for her
behind the neon signs
blazing from
countless buildings
electric grave stones
marking the resting place
of peace on a Seoul night.
I chased her shadow
behind the giant
bowling pin atop
the bus terminal
but she was fast
this moon, gone
before I could get her.
I asked Orion
if he had seen her
but he responded in Hangul
“I would not know
I seek my mother, the dawn
under the watchful eye
of my seven daughters.
Cassiopeia turned away
cradling Andromeda,
a mother she whispered
has no time for games.
I searched on
seeking from her
only a spell
to cast out my beloved
even now looking
at the cresting sun
half a world away.
Last night the moon hid
daring the stars
to give chase
while Seoul
and slowly I
slip into sleep.

CLIFDEN MORNING

They were meanderers, gypsies of sorts, but never Tinkers, never an lucht siúil. They never travelled far, preferring the comforts of where they called home. They knew they wheren’t liked, weren’t really welcome here. They would be tolerated here perhaps, never fully accepted in good company. But they’d grown too numerous to ignore. They walked slowly across the street, meandered. It wasn’t clear where they were headed, they gave no indication. They liked the privacy of their thoughts. Perhaps to the Pharmacy, but Market Street was the long way there. It might have been to Manions, but their ever so black faces said they’d be less than welcome in the public house. I paid them no real heed until they began following me. I turned, stepping off Market off the curb and into the street, turned,  scratched the ewe behind her ears. I tried to tell her that a Scottish blackface had no business in the heart of Connemara, but a quick swipe of her tongue on my hand told me otherwise.