A sequence of poems published by Beaver Row Press. Beaver Row Press was run by Glenda Cimino & Kevin Byrne by the banks of the river Dodder in Beaver Row, Donnybrook. A genuine press, they printed their own books in an old church at the rear of the cottage, and gave many interesting writers, including Paula Meehan, their first publication.
Publisher: Beaver Row Press
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Salt
I would not write a lament for you.
A requiem for you, a song for you,
I would not twine a remembrance for you.
I do not think sweetly of you, of your
Past kindness, past pleasures, past lies.
I am not biding my time for you, not repining
For you, you cause me no more the sleepless nights.
For I have killed you. I have dried you up.
Anger I have for you.
With anger I have washed our pain.
Sweet healing hanger opening my eyes on you.
Seeing you, without the love blur in them.
Tears now pillars of salt.
Could call curses on you, spit on you,
Laugh at you, but I just smile at you,
Leave you alone. Climbed free of you
Away from the power of you the hold of you
The grip of you the hurt of you from
Feeding the need of you, filling you.
Bringing gifts to you. Bringing strengths
To you. I turn my power on you,
I shine that fierce light on you, you cannot
Move or run.
READ MORE
Caught in my full beam
Only I can unleash this moving thing.
You cannot understand it you cannot know it
But you can feel it under your brain;
Rabbit you, caught in my glare.
Clear of you, clean of you
Swept of you, no more bereft of you,
My kisses not for you
No words for you
No sweet looks for you
No look over my shoulder for you.
Turn my heel on you, my back to you.
I have no lack of you. It is you
That is to be pitied now.
Flight
Up here
am nobody.
Pure
as a green grasshopper.
Have left everything.
All my guilt's.
Down under quilted clouds.
Just self.
Who is that? Nothing?
No one to define me.
Simple
as before I lay in the womb;
or later when earth and I
share the same breath.
This is heaven?
I am not old,
young, married,
or single. No one
has a hold on me.
This cabin is pressurised.
Heaven is only for
a little time.
If eternity ended
I would say, Oh,
that was so short.
COLLAPSE 
