Suddenly as the riot squad moved in, it was raining
exclamation marks,
Nuts, bolts, nails, car-keys. A fount of broken type. And the
explosion
Itself — an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst of
rapid fire …
I was trying to complete a sentence in my head, but it kept
stuttering,
All the alleyways and side-streets blocked with stops and
colons.
I know this labyrinth so well — Balaclava, Raglan, Inkerman,
Odessa Street —
Why can’t I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street.
Dead end again.
A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face-shields. Walkie-
talkies. What is
My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going? A
fusillade of question-marks.
Ciarán Carson (1948 - 2019) Northern Ireland
Source: Ashville Poetry Review, Issue 7
from The Irish for No, Wake Forest University Press, 1987
exclamation marks,
Nuts, bolts, nails, car-keys. A fount of broken type. And the
explosion
Itself — an asterisk on the map. This hyphenated line, a burst of
rapid fire …
I was trying to complete a sentence in my head, but it kept
stuttering,
All the alleyways and side-streets blocked with stops and
colons.
I know this labyrinth so well — Balaclava, Raglan, Inkerman,
Odessa Street —
Why can’t I escape? Every move is punctuated. Crimea Street.
Dead end again.
A Saracen, Kremlin-2 mesh. Makrolon face-shields. Walkie-
talkies. What is
My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going? A
fusillade of question-marks.
Ciarán Carson (1948 - 2019) Northern Ireland
Source: Ashville Poetry Review, Issue 7
from The Irish for No, Wake Forest University Press, 1987
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