This poem is taken from Stand 216, 15(4) December 2017 - February 2018.

Anne Fitzgerald Four Poems
Finding Myself in Werburgh Street
In the diocese of Dublin and Glendalough
up along Dame Street, past the Olympia

and Dublin Castle, in earshot of Christchurch
bells, Werburgh Street Church stands above

Lord Edward Fitzgerald’s vault, atop of
Swift’s baptismal font, not a stone’s throw

from where birth and death records lie,
like coordinates to be plotted, half-truths

waiting to be lies on deValera
and McQuaid’s map of cardinal truths.

I take down oversized red bound birth
books for 1965 in the records room,
turn pages heavy with births from Skull,
Mizen and Hook Heads to Sheep’s Hollow

beyond border crossings, flyover latitudes,
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