I casually wave on finger-tips
tracing outlines of comic-strips of no-man’s land
lying uncontested between seduction and consent;

Smuggle illicit impulses past customs
for fear of confiscation and demands for explanation;

Declare destinations aloud with indifference so defiant
they require confident middle-distance gazes to reach;

Am occasionally cordoned off for essential maintenance
in the aftermath of another under-reported 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;

Am approached with caution but impossible to see

I am…

Border

..ing to a T