VALEDICTION

Tuck your Lee and your Liffey in their respective beds
of varicose marble and put them away forever.
Your waterproof shrouds are gone to shreds
and won’t stand mending. So it’s time to sever

whatever Celtic connections you spun from the fluff
of your dog-eared Penguins, endangered species,
from poems grown in vitro, from huff-and-puff
of Aga spirits cultured in Petri dishes

of cold windows. And so enough is said.
Luggage is made, and the watery morning brightens.
Taxi is waiting. A softball of loosened thread
spins and rolls and threatens to crush the Titans.