SENTINEL POETRY #24   November 2004



In Mexico City
Behind a pane of glass
Sits a feather headdress
Of unnatural beauty.

Green and red plumage
A peacock fanning out across centuries,
Spanning time.
A gift from the Aztecs
To the Spaniards.

This is history, weighed down by its own significance;
The precise moment - the collision
Of two civilizations.

But this headdress is a replica -
The real one is
In Austria.


In the sweat-throes
Of a devilish fever
I awoke suddenly.

Glistening like a fish
Slung in a hammock
I lay directly beneath
The massive wet sun.

The sap-green forest
Was dense and fertile

It must have rained.
(Enormous grey pyramids
Had sprung up overnight).

Tiny Maya girls threw
Sticks up into the trees
Using baskets to catch
The fruit that fell vertically.

Their mango breath
Dyed yellow
The morning air.


Raining in Dublin

Socks squelching
Like unending
Cotton wetlands
Beneath my feet.

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B. 1980, has lived and worked in Ireland, Italy, Spain and Mexico. He is a new poet who will have work published in 'Simply Haiku' (Dec. 2004) He was assistant editor of Poetry Ireland Review no. 79.