Newman House, Dublin
The bullets’ trace runs up the Fusilier’s
Arch and marshals us towards the wounded
ponds where ducks were shot. Further round the Green
I waffle something to that bench-bound lad
who asks after Brexit, and affably.
Later our Northside guide finds who the Brits
laid low in flak streets by the G.P.O.
and at St. Stephens, scaffolds bar the rooms
where Hopkins taught and wrote away his ghosts
suffering the aches of his Englishness.