his eyes
went in curves
– over the
back-wall
under the
feet –
he never
looked at the answers
curled up
under lights
i kept him
in a notebook
and in the
bus ride from Ballybane
in steam of
corridors
– he danced
in
and
couldn’t see me looking –
at braver
times he cursed at the gods
as I went
into little agonies
of
touch-and-feel
– over the
back-wall
over his
knees –
the sea was
different in Antiquity
– further
away –
tides were
lower
and men
didn’t feather their ways
into notes
and silent heresy