![]() ![]() Wings and fuselage clogged by imperial sugar work,Ī sticky crash-landing in the Liffey, doggy-paddlingĭown the Dodder till we found a wharf to gorge on Gorgonzola ![]() On one of the last helicopters out of Sigh Gone,Ī DC-3 out of West Berlin, an old crate out of Silvertown, To Dublin, then! With McCabe the Assassin, The biometrics broken down, but I had my mother’s papersĪnd a code word she swaddled in lullabies now lost but not forgotten. My heart had long lapsed, too expensive to renew, With street parties of Rippers & Crippens & Mosleys & Haw-Haws. With migraine sparks, and the English–Nazi border was christened Pitching barriers, angle-grinding watchtowers and turrets Metal fatigued as all fuck groaned into view, uncoiling wire, The Spanish–Italian border was dismantled overnightĪnd the next day rusting flatbeds, snakes of freight, From Iarnród Éireann by Simon Barraclough by Simon Barraclough ![]()
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