Two poems by Nuala Ní Chonchúir

  The Lunar Spread On Half Moon Street we eat Tunisian orange cake, under a painting of a melon that spills seeds like love. Over Notre Dame the moon is a plate, tossed by a Greek waiter from rue Hachette. Clear of Galway’s rooftops the full moon – bald as a skull – crowns the night. When she is van Gogh yellow and mooning above, … Continue reading Two poems by Nuala Ní Chonchúir