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February 14, 2020
Irish
At Toomebridge
(by Seamus Heaney)
Where the flat water
Came pouring over the weir out of Lough Neagh
As if it had reached an edge of the flat earth
And fallen shining to the continuous
Present of the Bann.
Where the checkpoint used to be.
Where the rebel boy was hanged in '98.
Where negative ions in the open air
Are poetry to me. As once before
The slime and silver of the fattened eel.
from Electric Light, 2001, Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Posted by JD Hull at February 14, 2020 01:30 AM
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