there are certain times in times
when light switches are out of reach
or when there is no button
to fast forward or rewind.
but i would rather reel the frames
ahead by hand
instead of surrendering
in the silence of blind light.
lights like emerald jewels of dublin —
dancers clicking their way to a fiddler’s jig
bowed on a blue violin.
is binn linn in cúicherán
do ni tú ‘sin ghlinn.*
or chilling vibrations of
uilleann pipes spread
with yeats’ cloths of heaven,
exhaled with the wind among the reeds.
movement to my shaking bones
that whisper juniper and plum orchards
in the corners of tuscany
or fields of lily of the valley in calais.
they lie to me like everyone else
in dusk’s hypnotizing rays.