AtLast_[07]

Topping modest stone pile walls Proudly worn as roofs of Eden, Hallowed. Hollowed, famine's cauls. Rhythmic snapping hearths of homes Whose antic fires warmly jest, Gone, anon. The pit has come And laid all human spark to rest. Glowing manners, unassuming, Drowned in drubbing reign, Rain of children spent for duties, welling, Razed in Connacht's march again. Alongside futile trails to blazes Mounds of dust in heaps in haze What is all, is all remains. And, elsewhere, who or what retains? Retainers. Shibboleths as monuments, Orations void of soul or sense, Hungry wolf pack parliaments Untouched, remain Far removed, nobility Whose deeds, at armed length, claim this land, Land, now sand of bones, they rent, Obscene jesters Courting smiles of sycophant Sellers of crops exported Over needs exhorted. We, hungered, strained, in death's rapport

Decay as corn detained offshore, Disposed in runs to Mayo, whence We die of master's arrogance. Leaving ghastly round-house ruins With unkept pointed caps astray

That pock the face of baron lands, Gentle folk all gone away.