The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

15

Balthazar B raised his head from the wet grassy darkness. Moist patches of his clothes sticking to his skin. To remember forging bravely on some detour which seemed so quicker north west to Dublin town. Over a stone wall. To land in a ditch and field. Looking up at the sky for a guiding star. And then keeling over into empty darkness. And the steamy nostrils munching near. The ripping and tearing of grass. And sound of bone grinding jaws. To rise in terror as a cow reared and trotted away.

Miss Fitzdare's dancing blue eyes back there somewhere. In a white white skin and lips of redness that glowed. Must get up and back upon my strategic way. The bark of a dog. A cross. A convent. Nuns in nightgowns maybe. Fm utterly lost. Which way over these fields. Goodness, windows ahead with bars. And human anguished noises somewhere behind those walls. Civilization can not be far away. Must steer past this building of incarceration. Nothing now to do but flip a coin. Tell me which way is north. Uncle Edouard said always forge on. That way is north. Across there the faint shadows of a rooftop. In the wagging shrubberies and trees. Trudge muddily on.

Ah underfoot the firm feel of gravel. Will take me somewhere. A fence I see. And hear an owl hoot. Never had so much fresh air. Nor as much cold feet. Chilling me back to life. I am so lost any direction now will do. Should have stayed in her stable. Eating hay. Miss Fitzdare come out and give me a cube of sugar in the morning, and take me cantering round the lawn for exercise. Sitting up on me, moleskin riding breeches tightly clutched against my ribs. Could easily be an indecent thought. Good heavens, I'm wading through someone's flower beds, maybe azaleas ahead. Someone lives here quite comfortably. Beefy said an area of embassies, and bank directors, salubrious and subtropical.

Balthazar B stopping before the shadowy outline of a house. Gabled roof over faint squares of cozy windows. No question now. I am on private property. How utterly awful. I must tip toe away. Casually. Into the dark. Over there is a garage tucked into this secluded house. With panes of stained glass I can make out. That way must be north. Uncle Edouard says to tramp steadily in one continuous direction is better than wandering in discontinuous circles. He was in my dreams when I woke back there on the grass. Gave me some rather amusing advice. At least I've struck out for Dublin when all odds were against me. Without stars. Just a momentary moon. O my God what's this. A birdbath. I hope. Hands out now to touch carefully as I go. Perhaps a vegetable garden to be crossed. There's got to be a field. And maybe a river upon whose banks I can guide my way back. Or swim this time of night. No nerve to knock and enquire. As Beefy could do all plausible and winning. Make my heart resolute now. Onward chaps. Get around the side of this house. Make a dash before there is a flash of moonlight again. I have a horror of trespass.

Balthazar B moved swiftly in the moist soft darkness. Guiding his way. And suddenly smashing into an obstacle. Something falling. And crashing to the ground. An infernal thump. Be heard for miles. Must run. Around this back corner of the house. Make exit. O my God something has me tight across the throat. They've got me already. Never did I have a chance. Please I'm only a lost natural science student from Trinity. Wait. What's this. Wet cloth. Clothes. A washing line. Lord a giant foundation garment. Fit for an amazon. Must get disentangled at all costs. And quietly run like mad away from here.

A light switching on in the house. Balthazar tugging at the line. As it stiffens and the garments rise up from the lawn. Yanking harder. A rip and crash of cement from the wall of the stuccoed house. Just below an open and ablaze window. To be back in Rathgar now to say push me the pudding will you. Instead of here helplessly damaging property. After all the bomb escapes. To be befallen this perfectly disenchanting exploration. Out of one's wits in someone's private garden. I wanted so much to guide myself homeward by the stars.To test my instincts alone with nature. And tell Miss Fitzdare. That I just followed the bent of ancestors. And now goodness someone is shouting.

"Who is that down there."

Make for that shrubbery. Crouching now in under this thick rhododendron. In the pin drop silence. And pull in this washing line.

"O Lord God Jimmie wake up there's something down in the garden."

"What is it now."

"Wake up I'm telling you."

Balthazar B hauled in the vague pegged white cloths lying out across the lawn. Which will lead straight to me. Slowly. So indeed indelicate. A brassiere. More female undergarments. All of them. Whalebone corsets. Pink silk pantaloons. Outsize. The woman who fits these garments upon her person is not to be trifled with.

"Jimmy Jimmy wake up out of the bed Fm telling you. There's a long snake moving across the lawn so help me God Jimmy do you hear me."

O my God what does one do now. I've been spotted pulling in the washline. People so easily disbelieve St. Patrick. Uncle Edouard can you hear me. At this most ignoble moment. In which I've not meant to cause such upset. Honestly madam Pve only been trying to find my way back to my rooms. Somewhere north there beyond your garage. I would recognise the grey walls and high green fence in an instant. Just beyond Merrion Square. Thump the nail once or twice on the big thick door and a porter will come from his curled up sleep at the fire. To let me in. To go abed within my thick walled rooms, so safe and cold. Dear St. Basil the Great deliver me from this shrubbery garden.

"Jimmy ah God, you'd sleep would you, and I'm being raped within an inch of me life, while you're snoring there, Fm being defiled. Wake up I'm telling you.'

To have quietly trotted to Miss Fitzdare's stables. And munched sweet hay there through the night. She said such kind things to me. Opened out a whole world of heathery flowers. In rain they sparkle down among their browny twigs even when the whole winter world is grey. Just as all this green is so dark and hopeless. Got to shift position now I've dragged in this suspicious line. Just nip over across there to the thicker bushes. And the washing line will follow.

"Ah God Jimmy there he goes. I'm calling the garda. I've seen him now. Trampling my best roses. Down there in the garden. With a length of snaky thing coming out of him so long he's dragging it. I'm telling you. Jimmy. Get up, get up. If it's ever rape with a thing like that he's dragging after him. I couldn't stomach it, the little fig stem you've got is bad enough. He must be crazed by sex to have the likes of that on him. Jimmy wake up I'm telling you. Jesus Mary and Joseph, he could be a Mohammedan. It's been in the Irish Times that a horde could be coming any time from the East. That Islam is on the march. It's shock enough to know you're in the minority without them running loose in your garden."

"Will you shut up now about the yellow peril while I'm trying to sleep. Sure not a man of them cares two hoots about Ireland."

"Sleep is it, while defilement is but a hair's breadth away.

And me raped following seventeen years of marriage."

"Shut up now about rape. There hasn't been such a thing in Ireland since the Danes and they were welcomed with open arms. Will you get back to bed."

"Jimmy for the last time."

"Shut up."

"I'm telling you Jimmy, not a bit of me will I let the rascal have."

"Too much of you anyway for him to want you all. Put out the light. And batten your gob."

"Abandon me is it. To men with the corkscrew things on them."

"Abandon you. Fm sleeping that's all."

"Batten your gob is it."

Balthazar crouched in the thicket of laurel and sinuous boughs of rhododendron. When trapped across the chippendale on a light note of conversation, an opera seen, a recital at the Music Hall in Fishamble Street, and one never knows that there are conditions and positions worse. Agony to ask to pass a sauce boat. Now, my God, the fear of running through unknown darkness. Just trying to get home madam, Fm no Moslem. Her shadow is at the window. She carries two portly breasts. By the feel of this brassiere.

"He's still there with the big long thing he's dragging. You lie there like that while your wife is raped out of her wits. Fm going to give you something to remember the occasion by. O Jesus Mary and Joseph what heinous new trials have you sent me to bear."

Damp and dripping in the rhododendrons. To know which way to run. Wait till the action dies down. Between this woman and the Far East. What was that. Bloodcurdling scream. And sound of broken glass.

"That'll teach you to lie there snoring and making dirty filthy remarks to your wife while a heinous rapist wanders in the garden. That'll teach you. Till the garda get here. To leave me panic stricken and defenceless against an immoral intruder."

A light bursting on, flooding yellow rays across the grass and gravel. A fallen ladder. Jimmy what did she do to you. I do apologise for all the needless upset. Crawled away here to cover. Just to wait now for the all clear. And the light out to give me a chance to run. Too late to offer one's card. By the silence ensued. The witty husband from whom there seems now no sound. Better advised to withhold a social overture. If I had my Landship now. I could suddenly emerge from the shrubbery. And twelve cylinders pumping, would get me back to college. Where I am but a harmless student of science.

Irish bugs fluttering at the glowing porch light. The grass pale white green. Crouch stiffly. O please, it's not the sound of tires on the road. It is. And twin beams of light through the branches. O God. Let it be some milk man and not the police. Tires sliding to a stop in the gravel. Car doors slamming. Flashes of torchlight. Three garda in their thick blue uniforms, yawning and rubbing their sleepy eyes.

"Can you see anything Milo."

"Nothing suspicious.'

"Ah it's what I thought, what would a good Mohammedan be wanting wandering nowhere on a soft night such as this. Give the Mrs. a knock. And well put her mind at rest. It's a nice place they've got here."

The front door opening. Gentlemen of the Garda Schicona standing on the gravel. Helmets held in the crooks of their arms.

"Nothing so far madam, where last did you see the culprit complained of, described as Mohammedan."

"He was right over there with this long thing hanging from him."

"I must caution you now madam, we're three members of the Legion of Mary present here. Let that be understood. And I have to tell you to be careful in talk like that."

"Sure I'll have you know then that I'm a member of the Royal Dublin Society. Roses have been named after me. Only last year I exhibited myself."

"Ah now, madam, none of that. I must caution you again."

"You oaf."

"Now now. That's a matter neither here nor there. It's decency first. I'm ready to take down particulars."

"And let the scurrilous intruder escape."

"Now if your man, madam, was as desperate as you say, he'd be as far now as the Kilcool, in the County Wicklow.

After waving goodbye to the protestants in Greystones."

"Eegit, eegit."

"Calm yourself madam, and be a decent lady."

"Didn't I see him five minutes ago."

"Describe his dress and distinguishing features."

"How many times do I have to tell you he was a Mohammedan." "Ah well well have no trouble then, catching the likes of him, but sure madam he's as likely to be a prince travelling with, forgive the expression, his harem. There's one of them lives in the Rathgar. But from what we know of him he's a jolly gentleman. And it's the women we've got to protect him from. They're banging on his door, poor man, all times of the day and night. The gentleman can't get a moment's rest. I'm sure he thinks we're not civilized."

"How dare you, when Ireland preserved culture through the dark ages of mankind."

"Ah now madam what's a few old trinkets and pages of a book compared to the refrigerators some of these gentlemen have in their very cars."

"I'm going to faint."

"Boys catch her now. I've got holt of her. She's no lightweight, I'm telling you, any Mohammedan gentleman would have his hands full with the likes of her. In the door now.

She'll come round. Milo you make a search there through the shrubbery for footprints."

Flash of garda torches approaching across the lawn shooting between the branches and leaves of rhododendrons. Balthazar crouching low. A weary wave of sleeping chill across my head. How did I ever wake up into this. Out of dreams of a white bull goring a man in a brown suit. And of Uncle Edouard who stood in a pulpit preaching. About the routes to follow through life. Lighthearted on the boulevard, gay in the cafe, a good shot at the shoot. A flower delivered each morning to the door for the buttonhole. Put a smile on the face. Keep the collar worn loose at the throat. Be skittish laughing and droll. Wear the garter always for the sock. And Balthazar my dear little one. As the prickly problems of life assail, or get dumped on you all at once, then. Ah. Take the walking stick, put back the shoulders, chest out, emerge into the world, stare up at the sky, watch where you're walking and show them what you are made of. Move the bowel in the morning like the roar of a lion. Hum a lullaby while you pee. That is my dear boy, joy. Soar up in the heavens in the balloon. When you come down again and you find that your mistress has had a little on the side. Give her a small slap and say do not again be naughty. You hope that it was not with a rogue or swindler. That it was a gentleman of stature. Who knows his wine. And would always know his women. If he is black so much the better, and you then become completely white. For a change of pace. And last of all, let me say my dear boy. A little something about baldness. If you want to wear the toupee, which I do not suggest, always carry two. One for the white wine and one for the red. And when you drink the brandy you must of course be completely bald. And ah. For the great frisson. To press the top of the head against the breasts. It is perhaps one of the noblest of man's pleasures. The brain feels the breast right through the follicles. Undisturbed by the useless hair. You are not perhaps bald yet but there is hope. And then. You spin like a top upon madam's precious matters. After which death has no fear.

"Ah come out of there with your hands up. I've got him. Fve got him. There he is. Up now. We've got the black Mohammedan for sure. Come out of there youse. Attempting rape on a good catholic woman and running around your own country without so much as a farthing piece shielding you from shame."

Balthazar rising to his knees. The drops of moisture falling from the leaves. Stumbling forward into the torch light. Eyes blinking.

"Ah. Sure your man is dressed like a gentleman. He's the whitest thing I ever saw. Ah now wait a moment now. He's got ladies undergarments dragging after him. That's lawlessness enough for me I can tell you."

"Milo don't let that fool you. Mind now. We have caught a dangerous desperado here. Easy boys."

"Look of the way he's bending over double to avoid presenting too large a target, sure he's learned that trying to escape from the Federal Bureau of Investigation in America. Get the handcuffs now will you Sean from the car. He's no local criminal. I know the stance when I see it I'm telling you."

"Enough of your Yank folklore Milo. I'm in command of this arrest and will give the orders. Sean get the handcuffs from the car and me note book. Youse now. Let me caution you before you speak that what I think and see here will be used against you."

'That's not correct Seamus."

"Never you mind what's correct. Your man is a jewel thief, sure he's a jewel thief. And that's that."

"Sean write down jewel thief."

The madam of the house stepping forth on the gravel in a long green kimono. Hair pinched close to her head in curlers.

Arms crossed over her huge breasts. Woolly red slippers on her feet. The garda stepping back and Seamus nodding.

"Is this your man madam, would you now positively identify him beyond any shadow of doubt as the Mohammedan."

"Didn't I tell you. The spitting image. Do you believe me now the rapist was loose."

"It appears to be established fact, madam."

"Fact is it, heinous rape that's what it is."

"Did you get that down Sean. And now you, speak up, what have you got to say. Get it down Sean, the rapist remains silent in face of the questions put to him by his interrogators. It is now five five A.M. in the vicinity of Herbert Park.

The culprit although shivering appears not to speak. At approximately five A.M. we surrounded the accused, closed with him at five one A.M., the culprit was outmanoeuvred and after a brief struggle was overpowered and apprehended at approximately five three A.M. The clothes accused is wearing give the appearance of expensive quality and high class tailoring but it is evident that he has been sleeping rough recently. Search him Milo."

"He raped me. That's him. Hanging is too good."

"Will you be quiet madam. We have that fact down already. He'll be charged accordingly and hanged later."

Balthazar B trousers with muddy patches in the torchlight.

The pin stripe in my suit has gone wavy. My scarf lost. Best to utter nothing in these circumstances. One could never explain lurking in the rhododendrons. Give a mute grunt in my defence.

"What's that you're saying. Get that down Milo, accused makes a high pitched noise following questioning. But due to the unidentified nature of the sound, we must surmise its meaning. I think the culprit means Milo he's guilty as charged. He would be off a ship maybe. Youse. You speakum English. Ah just as well he doesn't or he'd be incriminating himself every word out of his mouth. Caught as he is dead to rights. Hold him Milo while I get madam's statement in her own words. Are you right Sean. Now madam what are the facts."

"I was fast asleep with my husband Jimmy snoring up there in the pink bedroom. I heard something fall. It was the ladder there. Then came a rip at the side of the house. Which I now see to be my washing line."

''Sean make a note of exhibit A and B. Go on madam."

"I gave Jimmy an elbow in the ribs I was so terrified and said there is a Mohammedan in the garden."

"Ah now madam wait one minute please, you had not yet looked out the window. How did you know it was a Mohammedan."

"Didn't I read in the Irish Times that they are streaming over the earth in their hordes."

"Good enough reasoning, madam. Get that Sean, the victim was fully awake to the threat from the East. And what did your husband do."

"He groaned."

"Did he make for the window at a later stage after groaning."

"He did not. He turned over and began snoring again and I was abandoned to the hands of the rapist you see before you. I knew he was foreign. No Irish man would lay hands to a woman and take a liberty."

"Ah now madam we must confine ourselves to the facts.

Was there any gesticulation of a moral nature or interference with your person now. I must ask these questions in the line of duty."

"Didn't I feel the scoundrel's hands around my throat making unwanted heavy breathing advances.' "Get that down Sean. Accused between the times of knocking the ladder over and pulling the clothesline off the side of the house with attendant plaster made a savage advance with menacing interference upon the victim's person. Now madam. What was the manner of the interference. Asked in the line of duty."

"Never you mind what manner. It was heinous. Isn't that manner enough."

"Sean's put down manner was heinous in nature. And madam I remind you once again I'm only doing me duty here seeking the facts."

"Well you'll get none of that kind of facts from me, I'm a respectably married woman and my husband is a business executive of twenty years duration."

"It was pure and simple rape then."

"Haven't I been telling you it was rape for the last half hour."

"Did the accused leave mud from his boots in the house."

"What do you mean. Are you not trusting me in my testimony. I'll have you degraded in rank. I have a brother a Jesuit and two more are Christian Brothers."

"I am a Knight of Columbus madam. But all the same isn't one Jesuit worth two of the Christian Brothers so you might as well say you have four brothers all Christian Brothers."

"This is not a joke."

"To be sure madam. Milo throw a cover over the accused, sure the poor man is shivering badly now."

"Shivering is good enough for him. Here I am nearly without a stitch on me. Hang him."

"Now be quiet madam, if you please. Rape is one thing.

But inhumanity to man is another. Where did the interference with the person of madam occur and were there attendant obscene grunts or gestures madam, having in mind of course that if the accused voiced an obscenity in an unknown tongue it might not give you immediate offence until it was later translated, am I right, Milo on that point of law if you please.'

"Right captain."

"You are making a mockery of the victim of rape you eegit. Sure that needs no translation.' "I am not, madam, making a mockery, what would I want to make a mockery for this time of the morning with it getting on for dawn and God fearing people asleep in their beds. And if you leave us to the legal points, sure you can supply the facts madam. It's as clear as the day I was born that the accused will plead nolo contendere. Am I right on that Milo if you please."

"Right captain."

"Thank you Milo. Now to what height of indecency did the interference with you madam extend."

"You filthy minded cur. I could slap your face. Height is it. Up me you're insinuating is it. I'll have you reported to the superintendent."

"I resent that madam. And don't you raise your hand to me. You report what you like to whom you like but I'm only doing my duty. Sure your man here on the lawn could be innocent. And you are not forthcoming with the facts. Close the notebook Sean. The time is now five thirteen to the minute."

"I am behooved."

"You may be behooved madam, I wouldn't know what you were meaning."

"I am behooved. The Bishop will hear of this. The lot of you will get your come uppance. Remove yourselves. Go on. Take that rapist with you. Get your big hooves out of my lawn."

"Ah Milo would you say now we were only behooving."

"Insults is it. The Bishop will fix your waggon. Jimmy, come down here. Bring the gun."

"Ah now none of that madam. Being behooved is one thing. But being violent is another. Are you pressing charges concerning the alleged interference with your person."

"I'll get the likes of you fixed fast. Just wait.'

Sucking in her breath. Turning her stout build in its own tracks madam of the rape ran back into the house. The sound of her feet pounding up the stairs. Her voice coming out the open window from the lighted bedroom. Her shadow on the ceiling. Down in the damp dark silent greenness the accused mute and numb. The three waiting Garda Schicona staring at the stucco suburban house.

"Ah Jimmy, Jimmy me dear what did I do to you at all. Speak to me. Speak. O Lord God what have I done at all. Saints I have him kilt. O God what is he doing dying and he's not due for pension yet."

"I don't like the sound of that one bit Milo. I'd better get up there and investigate. Sure this is beginning to sound more like a war than a Mohammedan loose in Donnybrook. Take the accused and wait for me in the car. Don't panic. If not back in two minutes come in after me.' Balthazar B marched between the two garda. They fell into step one in front and one behind. Left right, left right over the gravel. Milo first opening the door, giving a salute and bow as Balthazar crouched into the small black vehicle. A rug pulled up over his knees. Milo taking out a packet of Woodbines and putting them to Balthazar. Refuse the nearest.

"Ah now Sean what do you make of this at all. Sure your woman has done something to your man up there in the bedroom. By the sound of it a blow upon some part of the higher learning delivered with the maximum from behind while the innocent gent was dancing in his sleep with a Hollywood movie star."

"Ah I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of that one meself."

"What do you make of your mute man here Sean. He seems decent enough when you get a good look at him in the light. I mean you'd have to put him down as a member of the gentleman classes dressed as he is. Sure that woman's out of her mind, how would this slender dignified gent here rape the likes of her. He'd have more chance strangling the Loch Ness monster. He may be lost on the highway or something. Isn't the Ailesbury road full of embassies with foreign gentlemen dining there of an evening. I think your woman is out of the asylum over beyond if you want my shilling of information."

"Ah you may be right Milo. You may be right. She'll be giving Seamus the swipe of her tongue in any event. And that tongue of hers is the size of an ironing board. O Jesus what's that."

"It's Seamus, the poor man is running for his life, with that one after him. Ah God hasn't she got a hurling stick aimed at your man's head. This is an awful night for the Garda Schicona I'm telling you. Jump to now helmets on and give your man some aid."

"What about the prisoner."

"He's content enough. Sure he's safer in here than outside be the look of things."

Milo and Sean jumping from the car. Seamus running from the building. Out of a cloud of pillow feathers the lady of Donnybrook environs emerged swinging a long stick round her head. Seamus ducked and side stepped. Madam's kimono flying open. Heaving rolls of breasts and bellies.

"Men make back for the car your woman's the maddest thing on three wheels. She has the husband nearly kilt. Quick now."

The huge bulk of Seamus as he bent to squeeze into the front seat of the car. Two handed blows of the hurling stick raining on his shoulders. Milo slipping in beside him and Sean getting in the back. The slam of car doors. Revving the engine. Backwards towards Dublin.

"What kind of woman is this at all."

"Sure let's get the hell out of here and find that out later."

"Watch it Seamus, watch it, she's coming at the windscreen. Sure God help us we'd need all the Mohammedans we could muster to save us from that one."

"Eegits. Eegits. Buffoons. Get that rapist out of my life."

"Sure I think your woman is mental if you ask me."

"Ah Jesus I'm not asking anything but to get the hell out of here fast. Would you put the accelerator to the floor. She'd hit the pope in the haggis, that one would."

The vehicle reversing along the curving gravel drive. Sean with the torches shining rearwards out the back window. Your woman in the headlights. Smashing blows on the bonnet with the hurling stick. A palm tree passing calmly. A sign on the gate. Happiness. The little car backing now out on to the road. Back in the shadows madam stands. Her eyes looking wild. Her last gesture suggestive.

"Now what would your man have married a one like that, would you tell me Seamus."

"Sure the heart does a lot of strange things. Who knows he might have married her for her beauty. She would have been a stout heifer in her time."

"Ah now, none of that."

"Sure praise God there's got to be some kind of amenability between man and woman, as between a bull and heifer, or none of us would be here at all."

"Your woman back there was verging on the obscenity. It's been a hard enough night. How's your man Sean, is he bearing up. Poor chap. We got there in the nick of time. The likes of her would have killed us all. Try the Gaelic on him Sean."

"Mise le mas."

"Sola juvat virtus."

"Ah that's grand, he's talking, your fearsome woman must have struck him dumb. And isn't he speaking the language of the pope. He's a white Italian gentleman, sure as your foot."

The light of a grey dawn. The moist air blowing in the open window. The police car passing along a river. Dear me the Dodder was not so far away. Just down those green banks. Over there, walls of a flour mill. These cross roads and they say Ballsbridge.

"How do you like that Seamus, the woman says she's a member now of the Royal Dublin Society. Why the place would be a wasteland by now if your woman was let loose in there."

A clanging bell. The sound of the tram. There it is. All lighted and yellow and warm. Squealing on its tracks. Stopping for its little group of passengers. To take peacefully into town. The toy city awakes. As I sit here apprehended by police. Jail bars ahead. Uncle Edouard said, be always handsome witty and brave. To police and lawyers and many others too, my dear boy, make no sound that can be used against you. Try never to teach the world a lesson, for they will forget it within the week. Be honest till the temptation comes to tell the truth. Then dear boy it is time, believe me, to say nothing. Keep your wine cellar cool. The bowel clear. The foreskin clean. Use soap perfumed of the fern.

Merrion Square. Odd windows lit. Past Lincoln Place. The back lonely gate of Trinity. Down there just a little bit. The Landship moored. I am far too young to start a criminal career. Hold back my voice. Through the wet streets of Dublin. Just some little time more. Kneeling so many years ago. On a carefree carpet of the Palais Royal. When all Dublin and Ireland came as sunshine to me. Through the little green windows of Bella's eyes. Her soft hand touching my face. And Bella you ran from me. On my way here when all I found was rain. Crossing college squares huddled in one's gown. The moisture dripping dropping down. The chill creeping across the floors. Seeping out of walls. I screamed once a dark lonely Sunday in Grafton Street to stop it, stop it. I can't stand more. I prayed in college chapel with others cold and shivering. Singing out against the mortal cold. I hoped that candle light would help. No hell is under Ireland. Of that they're surely right. They say instead, a dark daughter. The country at the end of the earth. The oldest place.

Of the great

Long hair

That hangs

To cover up

All shame.