Have casually waved on finger-tips tracing outlines
of comic strips of no-man’s land
lying uncontested between seduction and consent;
Smuggled illicit impulses past customary control
for fear of confiscation and demands for explanation;
Declared destinies aloud with indifference so defiant
they required confident middle distance gazes to reach;
Am occasionally cordoned off for essential maintenance
in the aftermath of another unreported atrocity;
Remain guarded, if unmanned and routinely pulled over
by His Mad Jester’s secret services on my own side;
“Did you pack these thoughts yourself?”
[“Ceadúnas tiománaí …S le haghaidh siúcra…”]
Laugh manically as they rifle through documents to confirm
my membership of perennially herded Stock;
Criss-cross cattle grids that straddle lands contested and unfree
From the North of Ire to the Republic of She;
Approached with caution but impossible to see
I am…
Border
..ing to a T