SONG OF MOYNALTY
I stand by Mauraís grave and look out over the hills. The hills
arch their backs in Moynalty and lie huddled together
to preserve generations of secrets. The ivy scales
the trees in Moynalty and the trees spread out their branches
over the hills. They protect the dead in Moynalty.†
The clouds hang heavy above the hills, the meadows and
the fields. The clouds weigh down on Moynalty. The dead
conceal themselves and inhabit the empty houses in Moynalty.
They talk to the living and eat from their tables in
Moynalty. The houses have a dignity like that
of the trees in Moynalty. They lodge the dead
and the dead live in Moynalty. I stand by the grave, and
squeeze your hands, and those of your mother, Maura, in Moynalty.