*Inspired by the Irish Folk Song “Stick to the Cratur (Poteen)”
Would you hear me to say that the kiss didn’t linger,
So their wishes and fingers lost heaven and sheen?
With a flea-bitten silence and no trace of guidance,
Was an unraveled patience, neglected, but keen.
Would you number and measure the yarns that they treasure
But still cling to the rings of truth, virtue, and scene?
Now all the adoration and home-grown elation
remains scolded blindfolded, yet dribbles unseen.
Now reason this riddle: What stifled their middle?
What crippled their union and shattered the dream?
What feeds two stubborn notions and rational motions,
planted as people, beloved as steam?
What will make a glare dock, what will make the love flock,
What’s the treason for gold seasons never foreseen?
And what far epicenter did fondness dare enter,
For sinking tomorrows and amorous screens?
What slid to the crater: a lone, hasty wager,
Of testing the rising and sizing of zeal.
Oh, what complication or red proclamation,
Would give the sensation of comfort and steel.
By Samuel Vega