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PEOPLES(For Lyn)
She gathers
the world
into her
consciousness
holds its facts
like a beautiful blue
bunch
of wild flowers
clutched
tightly in her tiny fist.
All is alive
to her
whether it be sky
cloud or river...whatever.
Nothing is ever
only a thing.
Everything
is
“...peoples! ”
We visit & re-visit
the old pond
full of
“frog peoples”
who greet her
ecstatically
as if
she were one of their own.
She waves regally.
Speaks to them
fluently in frog.
Even stones become
“...the stone peoples! ”
She likes them
“...’cos they are so quiet! ”
“Their quiet is like a big noise in my head! ”
That night
trying to smuggle
her favourite cat
into her bed
snuggled up inside
her jumper
as if she were
pregnant with it
(it scratching & meowing
to be born)
she announces
(caught in the act)
“Cats is peoples too! ”
We give in to
her superior logic
seeing things
as she do.
poem
by
Dónall Dempsey
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