A new poet

I subscribe to several “poem-a -day” sites, and once in awhile, discover a poet I don’t know whose work interests me, as this morning, a poem by an Irish poet.

Makebelieve

And on the first day 
god made  something up. 
Then everything came along:  

seconds, sex and 
beasts and breaths and rabies; 
hunger, healing, 
lust and lust’s rejections; 
swarming things that swarm 
inside the dirt; 
girth and grind 
and grit and shit and all shit’s functions; 
rings inside the treetrunk 
and branches broken by the snow; 
pigs’ hearts and stars, 
mystery, suspense and stingrays; 
insects, blood  and interests and death; 
eventually, us, with all our viruses, laments and curiosities; 
all our songs and made-up stories; 
and our songs about the stories we’ve forgotten; 
and all that we’ve forgotten we’ve forgotten;  
and to hold it all together god made time 
and those rhyming seasons 
that display decay.

Pádraig Ó Tuama

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