Carrigaline Cemetery, near Kinsale, Ireland

It was in the cemetery
on the way to Cork
up the hill filled with weeds,
I tripped over brambles,
was stung by nettles.

Beyond the cemetery, the museum,
the shoes of Patrick Cotter O’Brien –
eight foot Kinsale man,
borne by fourteen strong men,
to his grave in lead coffin
(to deter body-snatchers;
who broke it by and by).

Below, the harbor, the great stones
framed what my mother loved –
water in still allure, the blue, brown
dories shaping the slow shadows
she drew and painted for us.

Published in West Texas Review, July 2018