A poem by Nichola Deane

  Towards Suaineabhal This is taking place in the presence of a mountain, before the sheep-cropped dungy grass between exposed ridges that makes the rock look threadbare, the mountain bony, a mendicant in rags. Follow my finger up to the resting places of the mountain, the deep grooves still glacial, still missing their smock of ice. Nakedness in rags, the bones of a thing in … Continue reading A poem by Nichola Deane