The Book of Kells
Clonmacnoise vibrates in sound, mist-driven banshees
Trespassers will be Shot with the growls just behind us, low to the ground and earthy
My grand dad clutching his anorak to him- typical bravado of a changeling grown
Sky-darkened picnics, crisp packets blowing away over the damp grass
Long time since 50p comics and a handful of bullseyes,
Lusting over the wide glass jars in the sweet shop
Down the road (around the corner from the post box),
Pulling a finger over each curve and swell
Is now, fingers against your jawline,
Skin against skin
Taking you into my mouth
Hallowed grounds weathered, long time past
Since Sr. Eileen told us, sitting spell-bound young’uns:
Your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit
Step carefully into me now,
So as not to stir the Ghost
Claire Phelan studied creative writing and human rights at Bard College, advised by poets Robert Kelly and Cole Heinowitz. Since her graduation in 2011, she has been writing creatively at night and as a professional freelancer during the day. Most recently, her piece, “Night Train,” was featured in theNewerYork. Claire’s prose and poetry can be found online at http://everythingisruinedforever.tumblr.com.
