BARRY CALLAGHAN
man of letters
So It Was Done
It all begins at the end:
we know what love is
when it’s over,
the trail of two people
bending into the echo of their own laughter
across a lake fresh with snow.
‘And this, this,’ you cried, looking back,
‘is the whiteness of God’s mind.
Without us he is nothing.
Nichevo, nichevo.’
A Stolen Kiss
‘A thief and his sister
lived in a hut.
She was very beautiful.
Crouching, she kept the fire.
At night, she went to the side of a road
and lay down. Men circled
her still body and then stole a kiss.
Her brother beat them to death
and stole their gold.
But one night a man gave her water from his flask.
The brother beat him but he did not die.
They carried him to the fire
and beat him until his cries fanned the flame.
He grew yellow, his eyes shining.
She lay near him, naked.
He said, “You are an invisible flower.”
She cradled his face, stole a kiss,
and crept away to kill her sleeping brother.
She came back carrying satchels of gold.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said.
“We are free.”
He fell into the flames,
arms on fire.’
MEDIA: POET
