mns  2006-04-27 11:01   

The shutters close, no light within, she fumbles
barefoot in dark alleys, hooks of memory claw
to shred the turmoiled visions of the past
what bestial grief is this
laid low before
now to emerge
where she once said
‘Goodbye’
behind a padded door

never look back
Lott’s tear-drenched salted wife immobile
weeps by the Liffey
as the doors clang closed

a sound that tolls through years

ms.