Poems and general conversation from Irish poet Michael O'Dea. Born in Roscommon, living in Donegal. Poetry from Ireland. (poems © Michael O’Dea, Dedalus Press, Amastra-n-Galar)
She fires words
spiky as hail;
I shoot them down;
they’re unwelcome in my heaven.
But the same words go off
over and over;
some see you out,
shovel in the clay.
Truth is words are clouds;
I don’t shoot them;
I shoot at them.
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